In The Graveyard
by Teh Bay
Summary: Shawn is certain that he's had a real psychic vision and he handles it the only way he knows how. Eventual Shassie. More within.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

January 26, 2010

Gus's head shot up at the sound of the door. He should've known Shawn would be late. 'Should've' being the key word. His best friend was loud and unsteady as he made his way in but what was most unsettling was what he was carrying.

Maps. Maps and a huge backpack. No. _Two _huge backpacks. Not good.

"Shawn. I am not going camping. Don't you remember what happened last time!? We were taken hostage!" Gus said, trying his best to convey how exasperated he was. Shawn chose to ignore it however.

"Gus, Buddy, even you remember that they were actors." He said too cheerfully as he threw everything down on his desk. Half the maps rolled away, bouncing on the ground and scattering about the Psych office.

"A psychopath chased after us!" Gus was pleading now. He didn't want to do this but Shawn had an amazing ability to convince people.

"This will be different. First of all, it will just be us. Secondly," Shawn unraveled one of the bigger maps and threw his finger down upon a location. "We'll know where we are! Here!."

Gus stayed staring at Shawn. His gaze unwavering. He didn't want to look down. He just couldn't. He just.... had to. He let his eyes wander down and could feel his anger.

"Indonesia!?" Gus turned stiffly away and paced.

"Road trip!" Shawn said enthusiastically - his eyes following Gus as he moved.

"Indonesia is 9,000 miles away, Shawn! We have to go over the ocean. It is in no way a road trip and I am absolutely NOT going." Gus grabbed his jacket, he needed to get out of here.

"You have to! I had a dream." Shawn said it like this was definitive proof - like Gus was supposed to say, 'oh, you had a dream! quick! we need to leave now!'.

Gus whipped around. "I don't care what reason you have. Shawn, you're my best friend, and you know I do a lot of questionable things for you, but there are just way too many reasons to not give in to this. Would you like me to list them?"

"What about the reasons _for _going? I can list those.." Shawn sat down at this desk with a huff, sitting on three of the smaller maps.

"A dream..." Gus deadpanned, not sure why he was still even standing there.

"Not just any dream," Shawn started rummaging through the mess and within a few seconds produced a newspaper - already open to a certain page and folded over. "I had a dream about this." He pointed to an article.

"Six foot taco made in local -"

"No" Shawn interrupted and glanced at the paper. "But where is that? We need to go."

"Shawn..." Gus kneaded his fingers into his forehead. Why did he get out of bed this morning?

"This." Shawn said, correcting the page and pointing to a new article.

"Young girl beaten to death." Gus read grimly. "So what Shawn, you probably read the article and dreamt about it. This happens all the time. How could this possibly make you want to go to Indonesia?"

"I would've thought the same thing... had I actually read the article. Plus, it's a little hard to dream about an article in the paper that hasn't been written yet. I had this dream last night; this is today's paper." A thoughtful look passed over Shawn's features. It was one of his calmer expressions.

"You're telling me you dreamt about something that hadn't happened yet?" Gus couldn't believe he was giving Shawn his attention. Was it April Fool's?

"No." Shawn said after a moment and stood again, his usual energetic motions back again. "I dreamt about it while it was happening."

Gus looked back down at the paper. "It says it happened at 9pm last night. Shawn, you're never in bed before midnight."

"Don't be a silly Susan, Gus! I never said I was sleeping." Shawn's tone was light, but his smile was weird. Like he was forcing it on.

"Oh excuse me. I'm sorry. I wonder why I thought you were asleep. It might be because you need to sleep to dream!" Gus ground out, his patience wearing thin.

"What about day dreaming? Besides -"

"No." Gus said quickly, refusing to play into Shawn's game. He walked over to his own desk and sat down. "How about this? No messing around. Just tell me what happened. I don't want you to ask me any questions. Just tell me about 9pm last night." He expected Shawn to whine and protest. The other man loved to drag things out. Gus had to hide his surprise when Shawn simply sat down and leaned back, looking at the ceiling.

"9pm... last night..." He began, never looking as Gus.

January 25, 2010.

Shawn moved sluggishly around his new apartment. It was a depressing place he'd decided. Nothing fun about it. He missed the dry cleaner. He sighed, deciding it was best not to think about how his hot plate had caused the place to burn down.

He glanced at the stove, watching his water cautiously. He never thought he'd make pasta this studiously. No more fires. He'd promised Gus. Of course it would be easy to weasel his way out of this one. His best friend hadn't really specified a type of fire.

Shawn leaned against the counter in the kitchen and watched the water. Little bubbles were collecting on the bottom. Little white dots. Moving. Shifting. He smelled rain. And rust.

The alley was damp and dark. The girl ran passed him so fast that he almost missed her. He turned but she was gone. This wasn't right. Shawn felt a deep wrongness twisting within him. He wasn't supposed to be here. Nothing would happen. Something passed him again, much slower this time.

It was a man. He was dressed heavily in black and wore a hat. He was carrying something. Someone.

Shawn followed him a few steps, his own shoes making no noise on the ground. He leaned in as the man dropped the bundle from his arms.

It was a young girl. Maybe 9 or 10. Her face was swollen and bloody and her arm was at a sickening angle. The man was gone. Things jumped. Time jumped.

Shawn approached the body. Her eyes were open but Shawn could feel that they really weren't. LIAR. The word washed over him, spoken from nowhere. It sent a chill down his spine. Her eyes were closed now.

Shawn's fingers were cold and numb, but it was the first physical sensation he'd felt since this happened. He smelled burning metal and could hear a terrible beeping.

Suddenly his new apartment's ceiling was staring back at him, bland and bright. He sat up, leaping to his feet when he saw the smoke. He yanked the pot off the stove, his cold fingers barely feeling the burn of the handle. He grabbed the broom and swatted at the smoke detector.

Someone was banging on the door. Shawn managed to knock the detector to the floor and as it crashed down the battery fell out, silencing everything but his breathing and the knocking.

He opened it in a daze and barely remembered telling the landlord that he'd fallen asleep while boiling water.

Later that night Shawn sat wide awake in bed. It all looked so real. The smell... and the dampness. He didn't think he could possibly fall asleep while standing in the kitchen.

By morning Shawn had managed to have a small theory. He was out of bed at 6am and down in the lobby shortly after. He got a paper and sat in a plush chair, flipping through the pages. He didn't see anything about a girl. He sighed, feeling so stupid. This whole psychic thing was really getting to him.

He stood, but stopped when he saw a small headline on the paper another man was reading. Shawn's breathe caught in his throat. The man was leaning against the door, paper opened wide.

"Young Girl Beaten to Death."

_____

Shawn stumbled into the police station, supposedly in the throes of a particularly fierce psychic vision. He'd decided after reading the article that he _could _be wrong, but he wasn't one to miss an opportunity to be right.

He threw himself down on the nearest desk, scattering its contents and then leaping to the next desk over. He shut his eyes tight and felt strong hands grasp his own arms. He knew it was Lassiter without even opening his eyes.

"Wrong. Wrong. Wrong!" He wailed, prying himself free and grabbing the sides of his head.

"Spencer, please. The last thing I need is you coming in here and,"

"She was attacked. But I only see one person. One!" Shawn interrupted and talked louder to drown out the older man's growl of frustration.

"The Peterson girl?" Juliet asked from his left. Shawn doubled over, moaning.

"Dad." He said and surprised himself with how broken he sounded. He was getting better at this. Which was definitely saying something considering if he was right, then he'd actually experienced a real vision and it was nothing like this.

"It can't be her father. He has an alibi. The wife said he was with her all night. She was angry with them and tried to run away. She was attacked" Lassiter said angrily. "Now leave the actual police work to us." The hands grabbed him again and started dragging him out.

"She didn't say anything about the mom..." Shawn mussed, opening his eyes and going over again what he saw as Lassiter shoved him toward the door.

"It was him, Lassie." Shawn pleaded, for once lowering his voice in the station. Lassiter seemed taken aback.

"Then the wife would have to be in on it as well. That's a stretch, Spencer." He said, folding his arms and glaring at Shawn.

"No. I mean, yes. The cover up. She didn't touch the girl though." Lassiter was shaking his head before Shawn could even finish.

"We don't need your radical theories. We've interviewed the parents. It wasn't either of them." The older man said gruffly and turned. Shawn watched him go and couldn't help but swear under his breath. Being an actual psychic was harder than a fake one!

It was like doing everything backwards. Instead of looking at the clues to find out who did it, he knew who did it. He needed to find the clues now. He had to find out how... and why. He didn't have time for this though.

Shawn took a deep breath, collecting himself and turned back into the station.

"Spencer for God's sake!" Lassiter was standing, already about to 'escort' him off the premise.

"Is he here?" Shawn was surprised by how angry he sounded. The other man's face twisted. "Is he here!?" The shock on Lassiter's face was almost humorous.

"He's in interrogation room D. With his wife. It's not him Shawn!" Juliet said, coming up behind him. Shawn ignored her, turning down the hall and storming toward the room.

"Spencer!"

He ignored them, speeding his pace. He could feel anger and disbelief that he wasn't entirely sure was his. His motions were spurred by something foreign.

"You're a monster!" He growled, face contorted in rage as he threw the door open. The father stood, the wife stayed sitting however.

"Who are you?" He demanded.

"You hurt her! You kept hurting her!" Shawn advanced on the man, knowing that his actions were too extreme but unable to stop them. "You said not to tell anyone. You said you loved her! You killed me!" Arms wrapped around Shawn and it wasn't Lassiter this time. Buzz was restraining him.

"Please ignor-" Lassiter said, trying to defuse the situation as he strode into the room, but before he could finish, the wife leapt up.

"I couldn't lose them both!" She shrieked, tears pouring from her eyes.

"Cathy no!"

The world slowed and the sound was suddenly muffled. Shawn leaned heavily into Buzz's back. The larger man supported him without any trouble, pulling him away from the chaos that his mind was having so much trouble processing. The father was yelling, his mouth moving franticly as Lassiter was turning him, pulling out his handcuffs. The wife was sobbing, her face in her hands.

Once the door shut, Shawn felt buzz release him.

"Are you okay?" He asked, leaning down. Shawn felt like a child. He backed up and left the station. He needed to get away and collect his thoughts.

He went to his apartment and delved deep into Gus territory, Googling everything he could on what was happening to him. All of the pages were complete fabrications. Nothing was anything like what he was going through. He'd had a vision! I real one.

Shawn was about to throw in the towel when he clicked on one last thing. A tribe of men in Indonesia. Shamans. A woman had felt she was being spoken to by spirits, so she sought out these men. There were maps, facts, and even pictures.... but nowhere on the page did it say what they told her. He needed answers, and the only way he was going to get them was to make her journey.

___Present___

"You think you're a real psychic." Gus said, feeling like he did after his mother would read him a fairytale.

"I don't know! It only happened once. But Gus, I'm telling you. Seriously. What I said at the station - it wasn't..." Shawn paused, grimacing and putting his head down. He was lost for words. A first. "They weren't mine!"

"Can you do it again? I don't mean to be so skeptical, Shawn, but I think I'm going to need some proof." Gus said, the notion that this might be real finally taking root within him.

"I don't know, Gus. This is all new. I can't go back to the station. Not if that man is there. I don't know what I'll... she'll do." Shawn was fidgeting. This was going to happen. "Listen, I'm going with or without you. " He said, again standing, collecting all of the maps and books he'd brought.

"How long?" Gus kicked himself. How could he possibly be going along with this!? It was insane.

"I don't know. The woman on the site said it took her weeks to find the tribe. She nearly ran out of food. It was on an island that was thought to be uninhabited." Shawn said, still dead serious. Gus was beginning to wish his friend would crack a smile and say 'gotcha!' but it just didn't look like that was going to happen.

"She was working blind though..." Gus said, looking away from Shawn, not wanting to see the relief on his face that he was giving in.

"Exactly! Because of her, we know what island and area to even look. It's only... getting there. We can fly to Jakarta, but from there..." Shawn trailed off.

"What if this is all in your head, and we go all of that way for nothing." Gus tried. This was by far the dumbest thing he was ever considering doing.

"It's real."

TBC....

***

Anyone like this? I have another chapter written but I'm a little scared. I know there are probably a lot of 'Shawn is a real Psychic' stories out there. Anyway, PLEASE REVIEW!!! Thanks for reading!

After this chapter it will mostly be told through Lassiter's POV with flashbacks to what happens during the trip. It'll be a lot of Shawn and Gus and then eventually Shassie. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

February 6, 2010

Detective Carlton Lassiter sat tiredly at his desk. He wanted desperately to believe that he didn't care that they hadn't seen Spencer in over a week. He wasn't exactly sure why it bothered him. Maybe it was his strange... _stranger _behavior the day after the young girl - Dawn - had been murdered. Shawn was one for theatrics. He was not a psychic. Lassiter was sure of that, but the way the younger man acted that day - he shook his head, refusing to go back down that road. He'd gone over that morning so many times.

'I asked if he was okay but he didn't say anything. He just turned and left." Buzz had said to everyone after the excitement died down a bit. "He was shaking so bad, I thought he was going to fall over."

Lassiter had huffed at that, it was just like Shawn to make everything out to be so extreme, although he couldn't help but feel a twinge of something. Concern?

No one was talking about what happened anymore. Not even Juliet. Lassiter itched to know though. He wanted to ask questions and get to the bottom of it, but there was no way he wanted people to think he actually cared. He only knew a few things. Random bits of information he'd picked up from just listening.

Shawn and Gus were on 'vacation.' If Henry knew where they were, he was pretty good at lying. They'd been gone since the afternoon of January 26th - last seen by Henry. They'd been over for dinner. They hadn't been by the Psych office. (Carlton had driven by every night since.) And Gus's pharmaceutical office confirmed the 'vacation' story.

Lassiter groaned and put his head down. He needed to stop thinking about this. Shawn was a pain in the neck. He should be happy that the lunatic is gone.

"Shawn!" Lassiter turned as Juliet leapt from her seat, a smile on her face. Spencer and Guster were making their way into the station as if they'd never left. He studied them, digging deep into his training. If Shawn had solved a case like the murder of Dawn Peterson in no time at all, then he could at least deduce where the idiots had been.

Shawn was thinner and paler than usual. His eyes were framed with dark circles and his navy blue hoodie hung from him like a sheet. Gus wasn't in much better condition. He was also thinner, new wrinkles set into his face and a large bruise by his right eye. It didn't look like they went on vacation at all.

"You guys look..." Juliet stopped, not quite reaching the men. "Terrible. Gus, your face." She reached out sympathetically.

"Bar fight."  
"Bungee jumping accident."

They both glared at each other until Shawn turned away, a smile plastered onto his face.

"We've come by to let everyone know that now that our vacation is over, you may start solving crimes again!" He said, clapping his hands together and looking around expectantly. When his eyes landed on Lassiter, they stopped though. A beat passed until Juliet interrupted their stare-down by hugging Shawn and then Gus.

"Where did you guys go? Must not have been sunny." She said, squinting at them. Shawn flinched away from her scrutiny.

"Actually it was quite sunny. Just not the sun you're used to. This one is purple. Like Grimace." He said, slipping away from the pack and making his way toward Vick's office.

"It was cloudy..." Gus attempted, sounding like he was asking a question rather than answering one.

Lassiter put his head down again, but strained his ears in an attempt to hear what was going on in the chief's office. It was useless. Too much noise. Shawn came out after a few moments looking flustered. He took a second, shutting his eyes. Lassiter watched him, entranced. He'd never seen Shawn act this way.

Shawn's eyes snapped open and he made his way over to where Gus was waiting. He said something in a hushed voice and they left.

Lassiter wasn't about to let the subject of two weeks of obsessing just walk out the door. He stood, pretending to stretch and wandered to the exit.

They were standing at the bottom of the steps as Lassiter made his way out.

"I need to go to the office. And shower." Guster said, sounding tired. "Why did we come here first?" He asked.

"We need to get back into their good graces. Solve a few cases and BAM. They'll love us again." Shawn responded, placing a hand on Gus's back.

"I don't think 'love' is the word they use when they talk about us." Gus said bitterly.

"Well regardless, we need to get Psych back up and running. It doesn't look like the Chief is going to throw any cases our way." Shawn said with a hint of anger.

"Why?"

"Something about yelling at suspects or accusing people of horrible acts. I guess it doesn't matter if they've actually done them or not."

"I'm going to the office, Shawn. Your dad's at 7?" Gus asked, stepping away. Was he just leaving Shawn there?

Lassiter moved a little to the side of the stairs, afraid Guster would turn around and spot him.

"Yeah. See you then." Shawn answered but made no move. Moments passed and Lassiter was beginning to feel foolish for standing there when the younger man spoke.

"You really think I don't know you're standing up there, Lassie?"

Carlton looked around. What had given him away? He hadn't even made a noise.

"I didn't think you'd spy on me. Well, actually yes I did. Warms my heart to know you care." Shawn turned, smiling widely. He didn't look surprised at all. He'd actually known. "Now wouldn't it be just a lot easier to ask me what you'd like to know?"

"Shut up, Spencer. Not that I actually want to know anything - I was just getting some fresh air - but it's not like you'd give me a straight answer anyway." Lassiter said, trying to wipe away the embarrassment of being caught in the act. He felt dumb for thinking they'd say anything incriminating on the front steps of the police station.

"More like you wouldn't believe me." Shawn said, his smile going crooked. Sarcasm didn't suit the younger man. Actually, now that he thought about it, anything but his usual unwavering cheerfulness didn't suit him. He didn't really know much else of Shawn. He'd rarely seen the man be serious. Maybe that's why that day at the station stayed with him. Shawn had been so different.

"Where did you go?" He asked, trying. He didn't expect a relevant answer and the smug smile the crossed Spencer's lips wasn't a good sign. It just screamed 'wouldn't you like to know.'

"I went on an extreme backpacking journey of heartache and discovery." He said easily, his eyes never leaving Lassiter's. Those eyes. Now that he looked hard, they seemed different. He narrowed his own eyes, trying to peer past the sunlight. Spencer noticed his movement and turned. "There's your answer."

"Doesn't exactly sound like the sort of trip Guster would be into." He said, trying to gauge whether or not the other man was pulling his leg.

"He threw up." Shawn said simply, still smiling.

Carlton frowned. "Just tell me where you went." He said, anger bubbling up.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

____  
January 30, 2010

Gus hated the wilderness. He hated the woods and the thought of sleeping outside instead of in a soft bed. He hated tripping on roots and having to 'do his business' anywhere but a freshly cleaned toilet. But worst of all, Gus hated not knowing. He wanted to know when they were going to arrive, how long it would take, how long they'd stay and how they were going to get back. This trip contained the answer to none of those questions. They'd already had to take long boat rides to get between land masses and slept two nights in the dense and well populated forests of the area.

When they'd first arrived in Jakarta, he'd been pleasantly surprised. He'd tricked himself because now he was wading through a foot of mud and covered in bug bites. Shawn's optimism was choking him. Gus was going insane. Despite being bone tired at night, he could barely sleep. He was kept up by the various noises and the thought that they could die here and never be found... all for nothing.

It wasn't until the end of the third day that he changed his mind. They'd found a trail. A rare thing this deep in. Hope filled Gus's heart. This was the island the woman said the tribe was on. This could be it. It was closer than she'd said though, so he took this knowledge with a healthy serving of skepticism. He'd fought with Shawn earlier. Another yelling match about whether this was even worth it. They hadn't spoken in hours.

Shawn stopped a few feet ahead and leaned against the thick trunk of a tree. Birds flew overhead and for a second Gus thought he was just enjoying the view, but suddenly Shawn fell. He collapsed like a sack of rocks and Gus stumbled up to him, dropping down and turning him only to gasp and struggle away.

Shawn's eyes were vacant. The usual green/hazel had drained away and left a cloud of swirling white.

"Shawn!" He shouted, panicking. He pushed his horror away and crawled back to his friend's side. Shawn wasn't moving. Gus took his hand, intending to check for a pulse and felt his worry increase as he felt Shawn's ice cold hands. This was it. He was having a vision. Either that or something awful bit him and these were the results. Gus pushed that thought away. Even if the latter were true, there would be nothing he could do. They were alone out here. He shuddered and put a hand to his friend's face.

His skin was as white as his eyes and sweat beaded on his forehead. After three days in the wilderness, they both looked pretty bad, but Shawn was taking it to a new extreme.

Gus sat, listening to the animals around them and waiting for this whole mess to end. It was a strange thing - seeing Shawn so vulnerable. It wasn't something he wanted to happen often and a thought dawned on him... finally. Shawn didn't want to be this way either. That's why they had to make the trip right away. That's why they couldn't wait to see if it happened again. Feeling a new rush of sympathy for Shawn, Gus dampened a rag from his bag and dabbed at the sweat on his friend's head.

For the first time since they came, Gus was actually glad they were making the trip.

Shawn jerked forward with a gasp, swatting Gus's hand away and taking trembling deep breaths. Gus didn't say anything; he waited anxiously for Shawn to collect himself. After a moment he passed the other man a canister of water. Shawn took a small sip. He looked sickly. He glanced sidelong at Gus, cracking a small smile.

"That felt terrible." He admitted. Gus just stared at him, unsure what to say. He was infinitely relieved to see Shawn's eyes back to the way they should be. If they planned on hiding that little bit, they might have to get some contacts or something. It was definitely a jarring sight.

"What did you see?" Gus asked after Shawn had managed to get his breathing back under control and gained a little bit of his color back.

"I'm not sure. I was on a beach. There was a man." Shawn paused, sifting through his memory. "Why is it so hard for me to remember? The last one felt so real... this one was," Again he took a second. Gus sympathized. It must be hard to find words for something you've never had to describe before. "There was a man," Shawn began again, frustration showing clearly on his face. "He was wearing some cape thing... and he had a stick. And braids! He was on the beach; there was fire."

"Did it look like it was close to here?" Gus asked. Maybe Shawn saw the shaman they were looking for.

"I'm not sure." He answered, turning away and scratching the back of his neck. His hair was still damp. "It was scary, Gus."

Gus couldn't help but feel a rush of fear. If Shawn was scared of something , then it was bad, but if he actually admitted he was scared of something, then it was _really _bad.

"He looked right at me. It was like he knew I was standing there. His eyes though... you had to see his eyes." Shawn shook visibly and Gus came to a quick realization.

"They were white; clouded over." Gus said, not asking, but stating a fact. Shawn turned back, looking at him like he grew an extra head.

"How did you..." Shawn's voice faded. He was staring past Gus now, his eyes wide. Gus cringed but still fought his fear and turned around slowly. A man stood just a few feet away. He was pretty much naked. The small piece of cloth that covered his bottom half was no bigger than a wash cloth and hung slightly sideways. He wore various necklaces that looked to be made out of stones... and teeth. His face was painted with swatches of red and white.

"Was that him?" Gus asked cautiously, not turning back around to see his friend.

"No." Shawn said quickly.

"Should I get the pictures?" Gus didn't want to make a move. He felt like a tiger was in front of them, snarling and baring its claws instead of a half naked man. Before they'd left, Shawn and Gus had made several crude drawing of what they wanted to explain was happening to him. The woman from the articles never said how she was able to communicate with the men and there were too many different languages floating around to know exactly which one they'd speak. They figured their best bet was pictures.

"I don't think so."

The man grunted, jerking his head sharply at them. Then he turned and started down the path. Shawn grabbed his backpack and passed Gus the canteen. Gus watched him in awe. Just a few minutes ago, the other man was out like a light, his skin cold to the touch, and now he was up and scrambling after a man who's ass was hanging out.

"Shawn, what are you doing!?" Gus whispered incredulously. Shawn turned, his face partly obscured by his backpack.

"Following him."

"And what makes you think that's a good idea? He has a spear!" Gus managed to catch up to Shawn and looked him right in the eye. This was insane.

"Gus, buddy, he totally just told us to follow him." He said, smiling widely. "And that's a stick. What's he going to do? Poke us to death?"

In one quick motion Gus reached out, snapped a branch off of a small tree to his left, and whacked Shawn in the back of the head with it. The other man yelped, putting on a hurt expression.

"Noted."

___

Thank you for reviewing the first chapter! =] Your words are very kind. All the chapters will be like this. (I think.) Starting with them after, and ending with the past. Let me know what you think!!! Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you all for your reviews!

Chapter 3

February 6, 2010

Lassiter was dragging. The day felt like it was never ending. After his conversation with Shawn, he'd come inside angrier than he'd been since the younger man had left. He'd forgotten how much of a pain in his ass Spencer was. He just wanted to go home and sleep his bad mood away, but here he stood... gazing sleepily at a fresh gravestone. Even in the darkening evening light, it shimmered with the reflective surface of newly polished marble.

"Marcus Holt"

The stone had no chips or cracks, but that didn't really matter. The dead body leaning against it was of more concern. The flash of an evidence camera snapped him out of his stupor and Lassiter crouched down, observing the scene.

"He was put this way intentionally." He said. He was talking to himself, but Juliet was right behind him.

"Do you think the vic. has anything to do with this Marcus Holt guy?" She asked, stepping closer and peering at the stone. Lassiter didn't answer. He kept his attention on the body. It was a man and the amount of decay suggested that he'd been dead for quite some time. His arms were placed so they were wrapped around the gravestone - held there by a thin piece of twine. The whole thing just spelled weird. No matter what way he looked at it though, one thing was painfully obvious. Whoever did this wanted the man to be found and that meant that the positioning was crucial.

"This stone is new. Maybe they're related." Juliet tried from behind him. Lassiter only grunted. Something was wrong with this. He could feel it. He stood up, sighing. He was beginning to sound like Spencer. Lassiter wasn't surprised to find his thoughts again drifting to the young man. He tried to think of what Shawn would say if he were there. Probably something about...

"Zombies!"

Lassiter cringed. It was 8pm! Shouldn't he still be having dinner or something? He turned, expecting to see both of the idiots but was surprised to only see Spencer.

"Shawn." Juliet said in greeting, not looking away from the scene. Shawn looked even worse than he had earlier.

"Get out of here." Lassiter growled out but by now he knew it was useless. Shawn only smiled at him, coming closer. He hugged himself tight, pulling his hoodie against him. Was he cold?

Lassiter stepped in front of the younger man, preventing him from getting closer. "You are not on this case. Leave now before I have you arrested for interfering with our investigation." He said but his voice didn't show any anger. He'd made the same threat so many times, that it was almost like a cough. Something small and unimportant falling on deaf ears. Shawn tilted his head, an eerily calm look settling on his face.

"I don't think I like it here very much." He said. 'Then leave' Lassiter wanted to say, but found himself stuck at the way Spencer had spoken. The words were so soft that he was certain that even Juliet, who was only a few feet away, hadn't heard them. "Shoe is untied!" He announced, startling Lassiter so bad that he jumped. Shawn crouched down, a mere few inches from the body and hastily started tying his shoe.

"I really think this guy will have something to do with Marcus Holt." Juliet repeated again. It took Lassiter a second to realize that she was waiting for his input. She had been the whole time. He looked at her and could see the need for approval written on her face. He'd been distant lately. It didn't occur to him that he was leaving his partner out of everything.

"You're right, O'Hara. Something is definitely off about this." He said, making sure to look directly at her. He needed to be more observant of things like that - instead of obsessing about Spencer. Lassiter turned only to come face to face with the fake psychic. Shawn grinned, but his skin was even paler than before. It looked almost gray.

"You _ARE _absolutely right, Jules!" He said, sidestepping away from Lassiter and approaching his partner. Juliet beamed.

"Really?" She said, her eyes lighting up. Why couldn't Lassiter get that reaction? He balled his hands into fists and resisted the urge to grind his teeth.

"And how would you possibly know that?" Lassiter asked, taking a flashlight from McNab who was passing them out. It really had gotten very dark - and not just regular dark. This was graveyard dark. The kind of intense blackness that only comes from a place where hundreds of bodies lie. "You've been here for two minutes."

"I've divined it." He said, and strangely didn't accept the flashlight he was being given. He pulled one arm from his sweatshirt's pocket and placed it against his temple; shutting his eyes gently. "This man has everything to do with Marcus Holt." He shouted, catching the attention of the entire unit around them. Everyone waited, staring at Spencer, but the man didn't continue. He only stood, gazing off into the distance.

Lassiter shined his flashlight in Shawn's face, intending to stop him from keeping them waiting, but the younger man's reaction took all the anger out of his act.

Shawn staggered back, throwing his arms up to shield his face, but not before Lassiter saw something. His eyes. They were so much lighter than usual. They were still a greenish, hazel - but without any shadows. They glowed with intent.

"Jeez, Lassie!" He said, righting himself and rubbing furiously at his eyes.

"Just get on with it, Spencer." He said gruffly.

"Yes, anyway." Shawn began, leaning on the gravestone but then shifting upright again almost immediately. He looked at the body, one eyebrow slowly rising. "He has everything to do with Marcus Holt, because he _is _Marcus Holt." It wasn't Shawn's best reveal and Lassiter found himself more captivated with the fake psychic than his actual words. He once again had his hands jammed into his pockets and he looked to be shivering. Maybe it was just the darkness.

"But this grave isn't _that _fresh, Shawn." Juliet reasoned. She shined her light on the stone and Spencer flinched away.

"It's him." Shawn said hastily, stepping away from everyone and making his way toward the entrance. "Anyhoo, nice talking to everyone! See ya later!" And he left, back retreating quickly away.

"We need to wrap this up." Someone said from Lassiter's left. He grunted in response, but still stared ahead. Something was definitely wrong here.

January 30, 2010

Gus and Shawn had been following the naked mystery man for over an hour. They'd been pretty loud, so it was safe to say that the man didn't mind them tagging along. They'd lapsed into a tight silence since they'd left the area where Shawn had his vision, but after so long someone was bound to break it - creepy guy in front of them or not.

"How did you know about his eyes, Gus. Are you psychic too?" Shawn asked. His voice held some of his normal humor, but his face betrayed him. This question had been gnawing at him.

"Because that's what yours looked like, Shawn. You scared me half to death!" Gus answered back, trying not to remember his best friend's blank stare. Shawn reached up and touched his face thoughtfully.

"Really?" He asked, trailing his hand down and frowning.

"Yes really. It was awful. If that's going to keep happening, we might have a bit more trouble hiding this than I'd thought." Shawn didn't say anything, only stared ahead. "Shawn, I'm serious. We could get you colored contacts or something."

"I don't want to hide this." Shawn said plainly, not conveying any emotion.

"What!?" Gus was horrified. Shawn couldn't possibly want to let everyone know about this. They'd think he was insane. Although... they really already thought he was psychic; it wasn't much of a stretch to continue doing what they'd always done. Of course, the visions would be much different. They'd have to find a way to tone them down.

"I don't want to hide it." Shawn said again, this time shooting Gus a sidelong glance. "I want to get rid of it."

Gus had never really asked Shawn what he expected to come out of this journey. He'd assumed control. Shawn would want to control his new "gift." Or at the very least learn how and why it was given to him. He never considered that Shawn wanted to get rid of it.

"Okay." Gus said after some thought. It was Shawn's decision. Gus sighed. He wished he were home again, watching Thundercats and laying in his soft bed. The backpack he'd been lugging around for the past three days felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. Some of the things Shawn had suggested they bring were just downright dumb. A cookware set? A carton of cigarettes?

Another hour passed by without incident, but just as the sun was starting to set, Gus could see the change in landscape. He'd seen it twice before. They were getting close to the ocean. Trees were growing more sparse and the dirt underneath him was riddled with broken shells. The man slipped through a few more trees and Shawn and Gus followed.

They came out into a wide beach. The sand was white and soft underneath his feet. Gus just wanted to sit down, but before he could even think any further about a rest, his eyes spotted something. Fire. A little further ahead was a large burning pole. Several smaller piles of sticks were scattered around, all burning brightly, illuminating the darkening sand.

A few men stood around the big pole. They were dressed similarly to the one they'd followed. One was bald however and as Gus came closer, he could see his face was covered in piercings.

"What if they eat us, Shawn?" He whispered frantically to Shawn.

"Cannibals? Really, Gus?" Shawn cast him a disapproving look.

"How do you know!" There was fire everywhere, casting a harsh glare of red all over and making Shawn look wicked. Gus flashbacked to the blank eyes and unconsciously took a step away from the other man.

The men suddenly parted, gesturing for them to continue on. Shawn went quickly, Gus following hesitantly behind. Everything was beginning to feel like a dream. Maybe he'd just wake up.

"I feel like we're on Lost." Shawn said back to him. "Or survivor."

"I'd like to." Gus said, refusing to catch up. If they were walking into a trap, Shawn could gladly go first. It was his idea after all.

"Like to what?" Shawn asked, looking back perplexed.

"Survive." Gus answered back. Shawn had the strange ability to tune out almost anything when he didn't feel like listening. Once, when they were younger, they'd locked themselves in the pantry to avoid Gus' mother finding out Shawn was over. The other man pretty much wasn't allowed within 50 feet of the house. They'd spent almost an hour in that pantry where Gus regaled him with the story of how the pantry used to have a ghost living in it. He spent every second filling the room with his whispers of how the ghost would moan and knock things over. Looking back, he knew he was just afraid to sit in that dark; small room like that - and also that ghost wasn't actually a damned spirit, cursed to spend eternity in his pantry, but something even more horrifying.

When he was through telling his tale, he'd asked Shawn if he was a believer.

'I don't believe Kixx is good for you.' Shawn had said as he rummaged through the dry goods. Gus was so furious that he told his mom that Shawn came over without asking.

Gus was startled out of his thoughts by nearly walking right into Shawn. The other man had stopped and Gus could see why. Just ahead was a man. He was wearing a cloak that draped over his whole body, swallowing him in a sea of red stitching and loose folds. His hair was long but parted wildly into two separate pieces - each braided until the very tip. He stood stock still, waves of warm ocean water hitting him just above his ankles.

Shawn shifted forward a bit, and then started walking with purpose. His movements were jerky as if fighting some battle within himself. Gus had no fight. He stood right where he'd stopped and he didn't plan on moving any further. Instead he watched. He watched Shawn approach the man and stop just in from of him. He watched as they stared at each other in the flickering light. He watched as the man jerked forward and before Gus even had a chance to process his motion, Shawn was on his knees.

The man had knocked his feet out from under him, catching him before he fell completely and pushing him to his knees. He lifted a staff that Gus hadn't seen until then and held it high over his head as if he were going to drive it straight through Shawn's head.

Gus rushed forward, panic driving him but also making him clumsy. He swung his bag in front of him as he moved and fumbled to get the pictures from within.

"Wait. Please!!" He shouted, cursing the inventor of the zipper. "Stop!" He stumbled in the sand, falling down and shutting his eyes tightly as he heard the horrible thud of the staff coming down. Then silence. He could hear the fire crackling and the soft waves gently coming in and out, but Gus couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. This was it. All this way and they were both going to be killed and eaten.

"My name is Bayu." A deep voice said forcing Gus to crack his eyes open. Shawn was still kneeling, waves wetting his knees. The staff was sticking straight out of the sand next to him, shorter than it had been. The force of the man had sent it at least a foot into the sand.

"You speak English." Gus said, astounded, only to be hit hard in his back. He cried out and tried to move away from his attacker, but two sets of hands grasped him tightly and kept him firmly in place. Shawn had turned and was now looking at him, 'sorry' written into his features.

"I've spoken many languages." Bayu said, an accent that Gus had never heard before falling heavily on each word. His phrasing was strange and Gus studied the man closer. He was small. Much shorter than Shawn, but much more commanding.

"I've been expecting you." He continued, each word spoken slowly. Shawn still remained silent, kneeling at Bayu's feet. "You have much to learn." He said, pulling an arm free of his cloak. He turned his gaze to Gus. "And so do you."

Gus nodded, desperate not to get hit again. He could feel a welt already forming on his back.

"Very well." Bayu said, and again moved with lightning speed. He thrust his hand forward, palm out and hit Shawn directly in the face. There was a pulse - loud and breathtaking. It was a heartbeat... or possibly the beat of a bird's feathered wing. It pushed out, bending reality and causing a strange dizziness to fill Gus' mind.

Shawn fell backwards, his head tilted back, eyes unseeing.

"What did you do to him?" Gus gasped, gathering himself after the moment of just plain weirdness. He tried to squirm away from the arms that held him but they only tightened their grasp. Bayu's hand was still outstretched, hand tight and claw-like. He turned his attention back to Gus, his eyes hauntingly pure white.

"He has the _sight._"

TBC

Thank you again for the reviews!! They really keep me writing! I know this one was more flashback than anything, but I promise the next one will have a lot more present time in it! I know Shawn left really quickly but you'll find out why soon! I'm sorry I don't make a lot of Psych jokes. It's taken a serious turn and.... well... you know. Please review! Thanks! 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

February 7, 2010

Gus woke up with his face planted firmly against his kitchen table. He lifted his head up, the magazine he was looking at stuck to his face. It was by far the most uncomfortable he'd ever felt in his whole entire life. Not even the time he peed his pants at the local pool and had to tell Shawn's father was worse than this.

Yes. This was much worse. Each and every joint on his whole body ached and refused to move properly. His face was sticky and felt hot to the touch. It took all of Gus' strength to reach up and peel the disgusting magazine page from his face. He blinked, his eyes felt like they were full of sand. Jet lag on top of dangerous journeys into the depths of nowhere was like staying up five days straight and then sleeping on a pile of bees... on your head.

He groaned and slipped from the wooden chair, sluggishly making his way to the bathroom. He barely made it halfway before his phone started ringing. Gus shut his eyes, willing the insistent noise to stop. He was still hunched over, his back protesting far too much for him to stand. He bypassed the bathroom and instead managed to find his way to the couch. Early morning light was streaming in through the blinds. He'd been so tired the night before - but still found himself unable to sleep.

Post-traumatic-Stress-Disorder. Okay, maybe he was going overboard - but any psychiatrist he told his radical story would definitely prescribe him something. Or hunt Shawn down. Gus leaned back slowly, working the kinks out of his back and easing into a more comfortable position. With a sigh he thought over the day. Dinner with Shawn's dad had went well. Summing up their experience to the older man hadn't been too difficult. The initial explaining of what was going on before they'd left was a different story.

Gus opened his eyes - slowly letting them adjust to the living room's light.

"Hey."

Gus screamed, his unwilling body jerking with shock. Shawn was sitting next to him, a book in his lap.

"Shawn!" How long had he been sitting there? How did he miss him?

"Take it easy. I'm not a monster." Shawn looked up. "Well maybe I am a little bit." He said, pondering the thought. Gus only stared at him, waiting for his heart rate to slow to something resembling normal.

"Relax." Shawn coaxed, face going stony. "I went to the scene last night." He said, shifting in his seat. Something was on his mind. The other man didn't look like he'd gotten much sleep last night either.

"The graveyard?" Gus asked, surprised Shawn had gone. They'd heard it on the scanner but both decided to deal with it tomorrow. "Was it bad?"

"Not so much." Shawn answered truthfully. Crime scenes had become the norm. "I tested out my newfound abilities on a real case though." He continued proudly. Gus smiled. Despite being bone tired and never really wanting to go with Shawn to the crime scenes, he actually wished he'd been there.

"Where you able to get a good sight?" Gus asked, knowing that without finding the _grounding being_ that Shawn wouldn't be able to see as clearly as he could. It was all so strange. It sounded like a movie. Gus felt dumb for even thinking those words.

"That's the thing." Shawn said, his smile growing even wider. "My vision was perfect. I saw everything I needed to see!" He said, pulling the skin under his eyes down, as if making them wider would help him see into the spirit realm.

"So that means that the person was there." Gus said slowly, realization dawning on him. "Juliet?" He asked, smiling along with Shawn.

"I..." Shawn looked down, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket, his smile faltering. "Well..."

"Who else could it be, Shawn? If it's not me, then that doesn't leave many more options. Bayu said it was someone important to you." He said, but Shawn didn't look convinced.

"I'll get back to you on that. Anyway - I left pretty quick last night. I was so shocked that I could see everything so clearly. Seriously. It was even clearer than my first vision had been." His friend said, still not looking at him. Gus didn't press. He didn't really feel like it anyway.

"What did you see? What's the case?" Gus asked, choosing to let Shawn direct their conversation away from who'd actually helped him _see._

"I saw a boat in a storm. I saw four men. Two dead, two alive." Shawn said, letting his eyes fall shut as he remembered - exactly how Bayu had taught him. "One was Marcus Holt. I saw it. He had a journal. It was torn and old. The other man... I don't know. He was tall and I could feel his hatred." Shawn frowned, shutting his eyes tighter. "I saw everything so clear, but the images still seemed out of order."

"Hm..." Gus said, shutting his own eyes. The couch was so comfortable.

" I think I'm gonna head down to the station and see if anything's new." He said after a moment. Gus could feel him standing.

"Mhm..." He mumbled, moving to lay down. His mind drifted along, flipping through hazy thought after thought. Who else could it be?

_'wait... no way.'_

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Lassiter closed what he was looking at as Juliet made her way over to him. The picture of Shawn - his passport picture, falling away along with the records of his purchase of plane tickets to Indonesia. His heart was pounding.

"The DNA test came back. The body is Marcus Leonard Holt." She said, setting a stack of papers down on his desk. "He was thought to have died in a boating accident over two months ago. There is no body in that grave. One wasn't recovered." She went on. "The two people he was with however," she said, putting two more files down slowly and spreading them so they were side by side. "...were."

"Dennis Walker and John Boothby." Lassiter read the names and scanned the pictures. "So that means he didn't die in the accident."

"The coroner said he's been dead for about 4 days. Cause of death is blunt force trauma." She said, nodding her head in agreement. "The chief is sending me to his parent's house. He'd been staying there before the accident. Maybe he'd shown up - in some sort of trouble and his parents decided to keep him a secret." Juliet adjusted her jacket and began walking away.

"What about me?" He asked, surprised to find himself being left out. He was the one in charge!

"You and I are going to have a sleepover." Lassiter balled his fists at the voice behind him. He turned, about to tell the younger man off when the chief called out, summoning him to her office. Spencer grinned at Lassiter as he walked by, plopping himself down in his chair.

"Yes, Chief?" He asked, hoping against all hope that she wasn't about to say what he thought she was going to say.

"You are going to stakeout the graveyard tonight. Shawn says he's had a vision that the killer will return to see the grave." Vick said, her voice leaving no room for argument.

"And you believe him?" Lassiter couldn't help himself. Sometimes it felt like the whole world had eaten a can of crazy and he'd gotten stuck with sanity pie.

"It has occurred to me that his... vision does not seem likely. We've had black and whites at the place since last night, but Shawn does have a pretty good track record with being right. So..." She neatened her desk, leaving him to see himself out. Lassiter got the distinct impression that he was being punished for something.

"Why does Spencer have to come?"

"He said something about auras and-"

"Forget it." Lassiter was seething. He turned and stormed out of her office, stopping at the sight of Shawn on his computer. The very computer that he had minimized information about the fake psychic. "Spencer." He barked, causing the young man to jump.

"Aren't you excited, Lassie?" He asked, grinning from ear to ear. His color seemed to be coming back. "We can make smores and tell ghost stories and braid each other's hair." Shawn was practically bouncing out of the chair as he talked."Well, you can braid mine." All of his energy was making Lassiter nauseas. He felt strangely relieved though. He shook his head. No. That would mean that he'd actually been concerned for the dumbass.

"You'd better hope you're right about this," He threatened, coming forward and dumping Spencer out of his chair. "or I will personally see that you don't see the inside of this station again unless you're wearing handcuffs."

Shawn stumbled forward, using the desk to help him regain his balance.

"Kinky."

"Shut up!" but Shawn was already walking out, humming to himself.

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Night descended on Santa Barbara like a child turning out the lights. One moment Lassiter was collecting everything he'd need for the night, the next he was in his car, Spencer sitting next to him. The moon wasn't even out. The brat hadn't left on a nightlight.

"I've scoped out the perfect tree for us." Shawn said, pushing the button to roll down the window, then switching it back up. He was four years old.

"That's great. Shame we're staying in the car." Lassiter said, a satisfied smile gracing his lips. Shawn scoffed.

"I guess that's why you never catch the bad guy."

Lassiter glared at him, taking the next turn a little sharply, causing the fake psychic to hit into the door.

"Real mature, Lassie." Shawn said, shooting him an angry glance and shifting to get himself comfortable again. "The guy isn't going to come in through the entrance. He's not stupid."

"So you suggest we climb a tree and sit in it all night." Lassiter didn't want to look away from the road. He was afraid he'd strangle the younger man if he caught even the slightest glimpse of that cocky smile.

"Yep. Don't worry. We'll be perfectly safe. It's not like _Trees._" Shawn shuddered. "Now that would be awful."

Lassiter parked across the street and Shawn immediately popped out of the car, racing into the graveyard. This was going to be a long night. He took his time, catching up with Shawn as he tried to climb into a big tree about 50 feet from the grave they were watching.

"This is harder than I thought." He panted, legs scrambling at the base. Lassiter rolled his eyes.

"This is asinine." He huffed, folding his arms.

"Call it whatever you want." Shawn said, making one more clumsy leap to catch the closest branch. "I call it progress!" He called out, finally grasping the illusive limb, twisting his body and climbing the rest of the way up. "Okay. Now you." He said, legs hanging down as his chest heaved. Lassiter stood, staring up. This man could not possibly be serious. "Here," Shawn said, extending an arm when he didn't make any moves to make his own way up the tree.

Something white and disc shaped slipped from underneath Shawn's baggy t-shirt. It fell but caught after a millisecond and it took Lassiter a moment to realize it was a necklace. There were plenty of jokes he could make about jewelry, but something about the white stone caught him off guard.

"Come on, Lassie. Don't leave me hanging here." He pleaded, his hand going limp. Lassiter didn't accept the help. Instead he leapt up and on the first try caught the branch and swung himself up.

"Holy crap." Shawn said, adjusting his position to allow room for Lassiter.

"Just shut up. This is going to be a long night and I really didn't expect to be sitting in a tree with a lunatic." He said, standing on the branch and climbing up to a more concealed area of the tree. Shawn smiled knowingly and slid to the branch on the opposite side of Lassiter. In the same motion, he also slipped the necklace back into his shirt.

A half hour later Lassiter was stretched along the length of the limb, binoculars held to his face. For the most part, Shawn had been quiet. He sat, his back against the trunk. Lassiter could only see his feet; the rest of him was obscured by the bulk of the tree. He wasn't sure why the younger man was on the other side, but he wasn't about to complain.

Time flew by until around 1am. Lassiter felt his eyes droop and decided it was time for another cup of coffee. He shifted, keeping most of his body still and being extra careful. He didn't want to make a noise. He would like for Spencer to be wrong, but he would also like for him to be right. He was torn. It was either be bored and have the other man be made into a fool, or catch the criminal and have to share the glory with a phony psychic.

Lassiter looked at Shawn. Somewhere during the night he had moved to be on the same side. He hadn't said anything, but he looked anxious as he maneuvered onto Lassiter's branch. Now he sat, arms wrapped around himself. He'd put the hoodie he'd brought with him on and Lassiter had to admit that he looked rather small.

Shawn's breath suddenly hitched, his hands coming down to grip the branch. They were pure white. Lassiter gave up his position and pulled himself up to sit. He'd actually been about to offer the other man coffee.

"Spencer..." He whispered. Not sure what to do. Urged on by something deep within him, Lassiter reached out and placed a hand on Shawn's shoulder and could feel him trembling underneath his palm. This was not good.

_____  
January 31, 2010

Gus sat awake the entire night, his back stiff and rigid against a hard stone. He watched Shawn, his prone body flickering in the red light. Bayu stood over him, chanting. Gus could only hear what the wind managed to carry over and he was certain it wasn't any language he'd heard before. The men who'd tied him to the rock were gone. It was just him and, too far away for Gus to be comfortable, his best friend and a maniac. At least this one wore clothes.

He was just starting to see light dawn over the horizon when Bayu stopped. He dropped to the ground in what looked like exhaustion. They stayed like that for a while. Shawn laying flat on his back; the darker man bowed over him. Gus watched because there was nothing else he could do. He'd struggled against the rope but had only succeeded in cutting up his wrists. There was another rock in front of him, large and flat on the top but it was far too big and imbedded into the sand for him to even consider moving.

When full light broke over them, Bayu stood, picking Shawn up as he did so. It was an almost humorous sight. The man, while a lot thicker than Shawn, had to be only 5'5". He carried him over to Gus and sat him down on the rock in front of him. Then without a word he turned and marched into the forest.

Gus sat, unsure what to do. The wind blew some of Shawn's hair, but most of it was plastered wetly to his forehead. Gus shifted, lengthening his body and toeing his friend. Shawn groaned and when he opened his eyes Gus could see a light had been turned on. His best friend looked rejuvenated. He stretched languidly on the rock like a sunning cat.

"Good morning." He said, turning over so he was on his stomach.

"That's all you have to say, Shawn?" Gus asked, confused. "You were unconscious for the last... for the whole night!" He was mad now that Shawn was awake. Why couldn't he be the one knocked out? At least then he would've been able to sleep a little bit.

"I was?" Shawn looked shocked and Gus could kick himself.

"The guy... he did something to you." He said, watching Shawn closely. "Do you feel different?"

"I feel great." Shawn replied, but something caught in his voice.

"Good." A deep voice spoke from behind him. "You'll need strength." Bayu said, coming from around the rock. He stood between Gus and Shawn, and slowly lifted something. It was a white stone, polished and flat but perfectly circular. There was no way it was natural. Bayu took a small piece of wire and twisted it into an X over the whole stone, and then, with precise hands, he knotted a thin piece of black rope through the top and tied it together.

Shawn sat up, watching the shaman's every move. Gus couldn't look away either. He was entranced.

"This will keep you safe." Bayu said, his voice rumbling like gritty sand inside a fog horn. That on top of the accent made it extremely difficult to understand the man. Gus had to strain on every word.

"How?" Shawn asked, reaching out to take the newly made necklace, but Bayu batted his hand away and delicately placed it over Shawn's head himself. It settled in the center of his chest and Gus had the distinct impression that the stone belonged there just as much as Shawn's heart did.

"There are many things to fear, Shawn Spencer." He said, Shawn's last name sounding more like 'stensar.'

"How did you know..." Shawn began, but just shook his head as if he didn't want to know the answer. Gus didn't blame him. Things were weird enough. He didn't need to know that the shaman had been watching them for years or something. "Why me?" Shawn asked, taking a different route.

"You were chosen." Bayu said, stepping away from Shawn and looking hard at him.

"Buy why?" Shawn pressed, shifting under the man's gaze.

"It cannot be known."

Gus stared at Bayu as he turned, catching the strange movement in his eyes and noticing that around his neck he wore a similar necklace. It was far more worn down; its edges chipped and surface dulled. Gus didn't want to think about what Shawn needed protecting against that a small stone would help. Ghosts weren't real, he told himself.

The shaman again wandered away and left the two men to themselves.

"Eat something, Gus." Shawn said, looking beat down. He wanted answers but obviously Bayu was running the show. Gus stared at him. It wasn't often that his friend played the mother hen role. In fact, it was Gus' main trait.

"No. You eat something." Gus challenged. He'd worked hard to get his badass reputation as the more sympathetic of the two. Shawn smiled crookedly but then looked down quickly.

"I'm sorry that they hit you." Shawn said, still looking solemnly downward.

"It's not like you told them to." Gus reasoned, pulling against the ropes that bound him. "Do you think you could untie me?" He asked, trying to catch Shawn's eyes. There was a terrible crack and he felt the ropes loosen. Bayu stepped forward from the jungle again, this time carrying a small bowl. He'd cut Gus loose.

"Eat this." He said, passing it to Shawn so violently that his friend almost dropped it. Gus caught a glimpse of the green muck inside and nearly gagged. "My men are over there." Bayu said, turning to Gus. "There is food for you there."

"I'll stay." Gus said, surprising even himself with his loyalty. Shawn grinned across from him and Bayu waved a dismissing hand.

"Very well." He walked over to where they'd been all night and retrieved his staff. Coming back just as Shawn dipped his finger into the bowl.

"I actually came to see if I could get rid of this thing... you know." Shawn stuttered out. He'd obviously been trying to work the courage up to say it.

"Eat."

Shawn shot a pleading look to Gus. He shrugged, unsure how to speak on Shawn's behalf without getting hit. With a sigh the other man brought a mouthful of the nasty paste up and took the swallow-it-without-tasting-it way. He looked like he was going to be sick.

"We must get started. Eat faster." Bayu urged from behind Shawn. He swallowed hard and finished the rest of the bowl as quickly as he could.

"I really don't think I want... to..." Shawn stopped, his head falling slightly sideways. His pupils were huge. "Dude," He said, leaning so far forward that Gus was sure he'd tip over. "I'm tripping." He reached out, taking Gus' face in his hands and pressing his cheeks in, squishing them into an involuntary goldfish face. Shawn cackled madly, rolling backwards and nearly knocking Bayu over. The shaman mumbled something in a different language and took the bowl off the rock.

"That's how you teach him to control his visions? You drug him?" Gus asked in disbelief.

"It has a different effect on everyone." Bayu answered as if that justified causing Shawn to roll around on the sand, singing terribly.

"My bologna has a first name..." He said, sitting up suddenly.

"This was not the desired effect." The dark-skinned man answered, looking at the bowl quizzically, turning it as if it would have directions printed on it.

"What did you expect to happen?" Gus stood up, unsure whether things were getting out of hand as Shawn snatched one of their bags and dumped it out.

"It was supposed to connect him more with the spiritual world." Bayu said, stepping away and surveying Shawn's behavior.

"Wasn't that what all the chanting was for." Gus shot back, taking his friends shoulders and trying to wrench him away from burying all of their stuff.

Gus saw a deep weariness plague Bayu's expression.

"I was cleansing him."

"Oh." Gus pulled a cigarette carton out of Shawn's hand. No wonder it took him all night. Knowing Shawn, he'd probably have to perform the whole ritual again every hour.

"This will have to do." Bayu said, sounding resigned. He stepped over to Shawn and pulled him to his feet. Shawn twisted away, throwing his hands up.

"I'm the karate kid. Wax on," He said, moving one hand in a circle. "Wax of-"

"Silence." Bayu commanded, making Gus jump. The shaman extended his staff out, passing it to Shawn. He took it, holding it awkwardly with both hands. "I want you to concentrate and tell me exactly what you feel."

Shawn nodded about eight times and then shut his eyes, gripping the staff. Five minutes passed until he cracked an eye open.

"Nothing is happening." He said, shutting one eye, opening it, and then shutting the other. "Is this helping?" He asked, his words rushing out. He was going a mile a minute.

"I don't think hitting on him is going to help." Gus said, watching Shawn's odd twitching with amusement. Bayu grunted and intervened again. He placed one hand on the staff and the other on Shawn's forehead. He trailed it down a bit, then pressed gently between his eyes.

"Wow!" Shawn let go of the staff. "I saw people. Everything is fuzzy though. Why is it so fuzzy? It's like frosted glass." Each sentence came directly after the next - cramming into each other and sounding like one long sound. Bayu looked to Gus, perplexed.

"Maybe it's because you're drugged." He said, grabbing a granola bar from the pile of things on the sand. "He said everything is blurry." Gus took a bite, feeling in control for the first time in a while. Bayu nodded.

"I was under the impression that this man meant a lot to you." The shaman said, gesturing to Gus. Shawn looked at him, rocking slightly.

"Gus is my best friend." He said, trying to talk slowly but still sounding crazed.

"There must be someone else." Bayu said cryptically.

"What does that mean?" Gus asked, offended. He would know if his best friend had another best friend behind his back.

"It helps to have a _grounding being. _When blessed with the sight, someone close to you will become your stability. Just like the stone I have given you will protect you, this person will give you clarity." The shaman said, looking disappointed. "I assumed it would be you."

"Me too." Shawn piped up, looking between them. "I don't know who else it could be. I just know that my first vision was much better looking. This one was so hard to see. I know there were a lot of people. They were dressed like you." Shawn said, gesturing to Bayu. "There were... hundreds."

The shaman nodded, looking pleased.

"The person we want is not necessarily needed. It helps." He said, fingering his own necklace. "But it is unrealistic to assume this person will always be by your side." He looked away bitterly.

Gus laughed harshly, causing both men to look at him. Realistic? Gus had thrown reality away when he decided to go on this trip. Gone and lost forever. He sat down on the rock, feeling his skin burning in the rising sun and added that to the list of things that were causing him discomfort.

"Let's get on with this... please."

TBC

*****

I'm so sorry if things are getting really complicated. Probably only two more chapters left! Thanks for the people who review. It really helps me write.

Anything unexplained WILL be explained. Please just... bare with me. I'm sorry for any mistakes in this one. It's late and I wanna post it before bed. Anyhoo. Thanks! Oh and sorry for my strange QQWQWQWQ... I don't know how to separate things!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

February 8, 2010__

Click. A door is shut and locks loudly as the mechanisms catch. The door is old and smells like damp wood. A sprinkler sloshes water about, the yard is overflowing. It should've been shut off hours ago. It's dark and the street lights make strange glowing reflections in the puddles on the concrete. A boot hits down. Once. Twice. He can hear every step. People are talking across the street. A girl walks by, walking a dog. Step. Step. His hand is in his jacket pocket, gripping the gun he has hidden.

Lassiter shook Shawn, his heart beating in his ears and was startled when the younger man sat up, nearly knocking them both down.

"What the hell was that, Spencer?" He asked, rubbing the back of his neck, unsure what to do with his hands.

"So clear." Shawn mumbled, looking off. "But where are you now?"

"What?" Lassiter said, wanting to shake the fake psychic. "You're not making any sense!"

Shawn suddenly sat up, calling upon agility that Lassiter didn't know the other man even had. He was on his feet; crouched now, arms up, holding onto the branch above him for balance. Even in the dim lighting, Lassiter could see the familiar spark back in Shawn's eyes.

"Listen Lassie, I'm gonna level with you here." He said, and Lassiter shifted on the branch, trying to feel less vulnerable, he didn't like the way Shawn was above him.

"Are you going to tell me you're not a psychic? Because I already knew that." Lassiter grunted back, choosing to just not look at him. 'I'm in control, I'm in control.'

"No. Well..." Shawn stopped, and as if sensing Lassiter's discomfort, dropped to sit next to him, legs dangling off of the branch. "I lied to you."

Lassiter looked over. "You lie to me all the time, Spencer. You'll have to be a bit more specific." He said, looking back to the grave. The adrenaline was fleeing him quickly. He needed a cup of coffee.

"Just because you don't believe me, doesn't mean that I'm not telling the truth." Shawn said, leaning back and absentmindedly tracing constellations with his finger. It was a good point. If only he _were _telling the truth. "Why _don't_ you believe me?" Shawn went on, sitting back up again.

"Because you say you're a psychic. You and I both know that's bull." He said, becoming aware of how close they were sitting.

"Knew."

"What?"

"Nothing." Shawn said a little too quickly. "Anyway, that's not the point... yet. I lied to you about the killer. I didn't have a vision of him being here." He said and Lassiter could feel anger start to bubble up. He knew this was pointless! Sitting in this tree; staying up all night - it was all for nothing!

"First of all, I know you didn't have a vision about the killer. You don't have visions because you are not a psychic. There is no such thing. Second, I didn't come here to do you any favors, Spencer. I came here because the Chief ordered me to and unlike you I actually care about my job." He said, trying to decide whether or not he should pack up his things now or risk staying a little longer and killing the bucket of stupid sitting next to him.

"I take offence to that! Or... Gus does." Shawn said, looking sideways as if Guster would just burst out of the tree in anger. Knowing his luck, Shawn's other half _was _probably close by.

"I didn't have a vision of him being here." Shawn went on, ignoring Lassiter's eye roll. "I lied because I needed to test a theory." The wind suddenly picked up, rustling the trees and making him feel uneasy.

"You brought me out here just because you had a theory." Lassiter said dryly. This was just perfect.

"Why don't you believe that I'm a psychic?" Shawn said again with renewed feeling. He sounded almost... angry.

"Psychic's aren't real! And for you to change my mind, I'd need definitive proof otherwise." Lassiter said gruffly, folding his arms, all too aware that his bicep was touching Spencer's.

"And all of the cases that I solved - that's not proof enough for you?"

"The only thing that proves is that you have someone on the inside. Someone giving you information."

"Oh, because it would just be impossible for me to deduce the answers myself." Shawn spat back, his voice laced with something strange. "Let me see something of yours. Something that means a lot to you." He began after a moment of silence, his tone softer.

Lassiter huffed. "As if I'd let you touch anything that belonged to me." He said, grimacing at the thought of it.

"I think it's an even trade." Shawn shrugged, eyeing Lassiter up. "You let me see something, and I'll give you proof that I'm a psychic."

"How about you just read my mind?" He said. Sarcasm.

"It doesn't work that way." Shawn mumbled, pulling at the loose threads of his shirt.

"How convenient."

Another breeze started, shifting the leaves around them. A few clouds were rolling in, covering up the little light the stars had offered. Lassiter strained his ears, trying to hear passed all the noise. It was dumb. The killer wouldn't be back. Shawn had said so himself. So why was he still here? Why were they sitting on this branch in the middle of the night? Lassiter sighed, lifting himself up a bit and pulling out his wallet. Another second and he produced a coin, holding it out to the other man.

"This means a lot to me. Drop it and die a horrible death. Jackass." Lassiter said, adding the end on after the threat didn't come out the way he'd wanted it to. He expected Shawn to snatch the coin away, grinning like a moron - but instead he took it gently. He held it like it was as delicate as a lady bug and closed his whole hand around it when the wind picked up as if he were afraid it would fly away. He closed his eyes briefly, curling forward.

"Your father gave this to you." He said, talking slowly. It sounded practiced. "It's not special. Just a penny. But you kept it all this time." Lassiter threw the other man a skeptical glance.

"Lucky guess." He said, itching to get the coin back. Shawn cast him an impatient look, then shut his eyes again - this time tighter.

"You lost it. A whole week. You thought you'd lost the one thing that helped you remember him best." Shawn said, talking a little faster now. "It was under the bathmat."

Lassiter didn't say anything. He was stunned. How could Spencer have known that? It was years ago that he'd lost the coin. He'd never even told anyone about it. He sure wasn't about to go around telling people he'd lost it.

"Spen-"

A shot rang out and the radio that had been lying next to Lassiter exploded. Tiny bits of molten plastic peppered his face and Shawn dropped out of his sight, falling to the ground deftly and rolling behind the trunk for cover. Lassiter stood, leaping to a branch directly above Shawn. He couldn't see the younger man, but he could hear his breathing. He wanted to ask if he was okay, but before he could get a word out another bullet zipped by, nicking the tree. He pressed himself close to the trunk, cursing.

He pulled out his gun, holding it close to him. It was the killer. He _had _come back after all. And judging from the angle of the shots, he was standing at the grave that they were supposed to be watching.

"I don't like it down here!" Shawn whispered frantically from below. Lassiter chanced a glance down. The younger man was huddled against the tree, holding his necklace to his chest like a lifeline.

"I did you a favor!" A broken voice shouted from the distance.

"You killed a man!" Lassiter shouted back, thinking about whether or not he could distract the man long enough to get off a clean shot.

"He was going to kill me!" The voice sobbed. The man was clearly unstable. This was not good.

"Do you have your phone?" Lassiter said, trying to throw his voice downward.

"I dropped it when I fell." Shawn answered back quickly. 'sorry.' He hadn't said it, but Lassiter was sure he'd heard it.

"I was supposed to die too." Lassiter had to strain to hear. The wind had picked up again. He took a deep breath, trying to remember the layout of the graveyard. He sidestepped outward, taking a quick shot. It hit the gravestone, taking a chunk off of it. The dark figure leapt behind the stone and Lassiter swore, falling back into his safe position. Without the night vision, they were doomed. Where was the moon when you needed it?

Lassiter considered his options. The outlook was grim. He was a sitting duck in this tree, but the killer had much more to hide behind. He could be coming around right now. Lassiter shivered.

"Maybe someone will hear the shots." Shawn offered from below. It was unlikely. The graveyard was far out. Lassiter glanced furtively at his binoculars, hanging loosely from a small branch. He pursed his lips. No. That was a bad idea. "Lassie, duck!" Shawn shouted and Lassiter's instinct kicked in before he even had a chance to think. His knees buckled and he fell, gunfire blasting away the silence as the ground came rushing up.

He landed awkwardly in a heap - not the graceful catlike landing he was hoping for. The breath rushed from his lungs with a soft 'oof' and tears pricked his eyes as he tried to breathe. Lassiter could hear footsteps. Someone was running. He could hear each footfall as it connecting with the cool dirt beneath. A struggle erupted and he attempted to get up. From his knees he could make out Spencer fighting with the killer. Another shot and Lassiter managed to stand, lifting his gun with suddenly weak hands as he stumbled toward the tussle.

One figure went down onto the other; both falling heavily to the ground. The person on top reared back and threw a massive punch to the face of the other man. Lassiter could hear the crack from where he was, dizzyingly making his way toward them and could swear he heard it echo. With energy he didn't know he had he burst into a sprint and managed to heave the top man off the other before he could throw another punch.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting. Maybe the murderer turning on him, gun pointed at his face, or maybe even trying to flee before Lassiter arrested him, but seeing Shawn's pale face glistening with blood, eyes wet with tears and gasping for breath wasn't what he had in mind at all. Shawn was the one who threw the punch, he'd won the fight.

"Lassie." Shawn gasped, his voice hoarse and full of relief. "You're alive." He grabbed Lassiter's arms, hands digging into the fabric of his jacket. "You're alive." He said again, choking through a sob. He was frantic.

"Calm down." Lassiter said, trying to ease Shawn to the ground. He needed to get this situation under control. "You need to calm down." He said again, practically forcing Shawn to his knees. The younger man whimpered causing Lassiter to wince. He'd never heard Shawn sound like that. "Stay here." He demanded, trying to push away his concern.

He stepped to the body, gun unwavering. At least he'd managed to get some of his composure back. The man was on his back, arms sprawled out. Blood was practically pouring from his face. Lassiter bent down, checking for a pulse. Damn. He needed to radio for help.

"Can you find your phone?" Lassiter barked back, not taking his eyes off of the man in front of him. There was no way Shawn was able to kill him with one punch."Spencer." He said when he got no response. Couldn't he just get one lucky break? Why did the world have to send him so many lemons?

Lassiter turned, ready for anything... except nothing. Shawn wasn't there.

"Spencer!" He shouted, coming to his feet in a millisecond and scanning the area. It was still so dark and there were plenty of gravestones to hide behind, but why would the other man hide?

"Shit."

Lassiter ran. He ran faster than he'd ever ran before and that was really saying something because there was nothing in his book better than the thrill of chasing a good bad guy and winning. But this time he wasn't thrilled about anything. He was terrified. His heart was pounding and even though there was a bloody body resting in a graveyard and a missing psychic consultant, he just couldn't understand why he was feeling this way. It was life or death. He knew that.

He made it to his car in record time, opened the door and practically threw himself in.

"This is Detective Carlton Lassiter... I need backup... back..."

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Sometime during the night Shawn had realized something. Something just a little surprising. He was attracted to Lassiter. Maybe this was the bond Bayu had been talking about. It was possible that he just hadn't formed it yet. It made sense. The only problem was no amount of his charm was going to make Lassiter like him back. Convincing the chief to let him do this stakeout had been difficult, but finding the answers that he'd been looking for was far more trying.

And now he sat, staring at the detective who was helping him so much without realizing it. He was alive. Shawn had been sure that when he fell from that tree that he'd been hit. He was sure he'd lost the only person who could help him with his powers before he even got a chance to find out what it was like. But Carlton stood in front of him, checking the murderous bastard who'd attacked them and Shawn could feel his heart swell with relief. He was alive.

Cold hands grabbed his shoulders, jerking him back and into a gray fog that he was all too familiar with. A vision. But something was odd. He noticed it instantly. Even though everything was clouded over, he could still make out the graveyard... and Lassiter in front of him. Shawn turned around only to come face to face with the man he'd just killed.

Panicked, Shawn's hand shot up to his chest, scrambling for his stone and felt his stomach drop when it wasn't there. Oh no.

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January 31, 2010

Gus watched tiredly from the shade of a large tree just to the left of Shawn who was trying, and failing, to do as Bayu instructed.

"Dude." He whined, slumping. "This is a lot harder than I'd thought it would be."

Gus rolled his eyes. Shawn had been trying to "channel" where the shaman had wandered off to for almost an hour now.

"Can't you just... I don't know, call him or something?" He suggested, maneuvering himself against the tree. Once again the bark had started digging into his back. It was nearly dusk and even he was exhausted after the day. At least Shawn wasn't high anymore.

"Oh yeah. Let me just whip out my cell." Shawn said, sitting in the sand. Gus rolled his eyes, trying not to get angry. He didn't want to, but his mind was already turning over the mossy rocks that were their travels back. Would they even remember the way? "I'm sorry." Shawn said suddenly, snapping Gus from his thoughts. "Oh hey."

Bayu sailed gracefully out of the woods but the look on his face was anything but serene. If it were anyone else, Gus could imagine him cursing at Shawn, but instead the shaman sat down.

"Perhaps..." He began, laying his staff beside him and gazing at Shawn wearily. "We've been doing this wrong."

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The cool night air was so refreshing that Gus _almost _forgot that he had no idea what he was eating. The fire in front of him crackled loudly and he made sure not to look at the men sitting across from him. He spared his best friend a glance and saw him staring sadly back. Apparently fasting was... necessary.

There were many things that made Shawn unhappy. Sure, he tried to hide it, but Gus knew. He knew each thing just as well as someone might know their own body. He locked them away in vaults, keeping them safe until he needed to use them. Sometimes nobly; other times just to twist the other man's arm. And of course one of those things was hunger.

"You look like a dog." Gus shot over, using this situation to gain the upper hand of the argument that he already knew they were going to have. Shawn's expression shifted, his lower lip jutting out just a tad more.

"You look like a contestant on survivor. I hope you like boar testicles." Shawn said, folding his arms and turning slightly away when he saw his pitiful stare was getting him nowhere. Gus choked and tearfully saw Shawn grin in triumph.

"I'm sure that it is a delicacy." He said after a moment, collecting his thoughts... and stomach. "You know what it tastes like? Chicken." Gus took a large bite, trying not to grimace when he bit down on a particularly rough piece. Shawn's shoulders dropped. Yes, hunger was high on the unhappy scale.

Things took a nasty turn quickly when Bayu seemed to appear out of thin air. He literally lifted Shawn from the ground by his neck. With. One. Hand. His men stood, obviously as shocked at his actions as Gus was.

"Wh...uhh..." Shawn rasped, his hands flying up and fumbling to dislodge the angry fingers.

"TIS." Bayu roared, his voice carrying well over the beach. His fury falling over his accent and making him even harder to understand than usual. Gus assumed he said, 'this' because at that moment his pulled something from behind his back and let it dangle loosely in front of Shawn's face. It looked like he was trying to hypnotize him... and kill him. It took him a second to realize what it was.

"This..." Bayu said again, calmer. He lowered Shawn a fraction, allowing his feet to touch the ground. His friend scrambled in the sand, trying to catch enough hold to let him breathe. "...is no joke."

The white stone reflected in the fire and cast an eerie glow as it turned and moved in the breeze.

"It." Shawn squeezed his eyes shut, toeing the ground. "chaffed." He coughed, his eyes rolling.

"Let him go!" Gus cried out, unsure why he hadn't interfered before and surprisingly, Bayu _did_ let go. Shawn crumpled to the ground, coughing so violently that he was gagging. The shaman threw the necklace into the sand with a motion so hateful that he might has well have spit on Shawn. And said 'fuck you' while he was at it.

Gus stepped over to them, leaving the direct light of the fire. He crouched by Shawn, putting a hand on his heaving back.

"This goes both ways." Bayu said, when Shawn finally managed to stop coughing. "You are given their world." He said softly, looking vaguely remorseful. He lifted the necklace up, dusting it off. "...and they're given you."

"They?" Gus asked, helping his friend sit up.

"Me?" Shawn asked, ignoring Gus. "They can touch me? But I have visions." He reasoned, trying to make sense out of the senseless. "I see things that already happened."

"What you see is never an accident." Bayu said, placing the necklace over Shawn's head for the second time. Even in the terrible light, Gus could already see the angry marks on his neck. "They find you, whether intentional... or not."

"They can touch me?" Shawn asked, incredulous. He moved his hand up to the stone, wrapping his fingers around its smooth surface and visibly shivering. Gus was surprised that he wasn't still angry about the whole strangling thing.

"They can kill you."

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February 8, 2010

Shawn stared wide-eyed at the man. His face was covered in blood, stubbly and tan. He hadn't gotten a very good look at him while they were fighting, but now Shawn could see everything and thanks to Lassiter, he could absorb every detail. And he did. He _saw. _He saw old scars and new scars. He saw the disgusting wound from where Shawn had shot him. He saw the hatred piercing through his ghostly body.__

The man unfortunately wasn't in the mood for a staring match. He reached out with blinding speed and pulled Shawn. It wasn't the psychical pull that he'd expected but something more dream-like. The landscape blurred horrendously and seemed to be rushing passed him. The man opened his mouth; blood came gushing out. Shawn gasped and tried to step back but he was tangled in this man.

Wherever their limbs touched Shawn could feel a growing numbness. First cold, then nothing. He was losing himself. Bayu said he could not describe the sensation but Shawn knew this was it. The man tightened a new grip on his forearm and Shawn writhed against the touch. He didn't know what to do.

This spirit was pulling him away from his world. Pulling him away from his friends and family. Pulling him away from Lassiter. Lassiter...

He was dying and he never even had a chance to really live.

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Hello! Is anyone still there? One more chapter just in case anyone even likes this. I know it's long and full of crap. Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed!! Seriously... you've kept me going. I almost was like "ef this" but then I got another review and I couldn't help but keep going.

The next chapter is already halfway finished. This one was so long that I decided to cut it a bit.

Does Lassiter even have a dad? lol. 


	6. Break

Hey! I know there are rules against posting Author Notes by themselves so I thought I'd accompany this with a little tidbit. The next chapter is horrifyingly long. Don't think I'm not writing because I seriously write some of it every day! It's just so long and I still haven't finished. I just want to make sure no one thinks I've given up. (If anyone cares.) I'm trying to bring down the complicated...ness of it all. I WILL finish this and maybe it will be a few more chapters instead of just one. Sorry for the wait.

I'll post the next chapter tomorrow. Promise.

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"Shawn, there is no such thing as monsters. Now stop filling Gus' head with lies and go to bed."

Shawn hung up the phone. It was almost 1 in the morning and Henry was getting fed up. He'd been content to let the boys suffer the consequences of watching the horror movie against his order, but it was getting ridiculous.

"But dad!" Shawn protested, climbing out of the covers. He had three lamps on in his bedroom. One on the ceiling, one on the nightstand and one he'd gotten from downstairs. "You don't know everything. No one knows everything. Monsters could be out there but using some sort of cloaking technology that we've yet to discover." Henry could hear echoes of things Gus probably said in that sentence and cursed. Why did he think that only Shawn was insane.

"There. Are. No. Monsters."

Shawn looked doubtful. He tugged at the blankets and glanced nervously at the lights.

"Okay, fine." Henry growled, wanting more than anything to just go to bed. "Come here."

They trudged down the basement - Shawn switching on every light as they made their way. Henry nearly screamed when the boy even opened the fridge. They got to his workbench and he lifted Shawn onto a stool, plopping him down and then retrieving two pieces of string.

"What are we going to do? Trip them?" It was frightening how serious Shawn sounded.

"We're going to tie knots."

"Aww, dad!" Shawn made a move to get down but Henry passed him the string and pushed him back up.

"No no, Shawn. You insisted on getting yourself into this mess and now you won't listen to reason. Now watch me." Henry tied a familiar knot. It was difficult to make and took a lot of skill, but he knew this might be his only chance of getting some sleep. He tied it, then untied it three times. "Now you."

Shawn's small fingered moved sluggishly as they tried to mimic Henry's. He made mistake after mistake. Groaning in frustration he tried throwing the string, but it stuck to his sweaty hands.

"No." Henry said, speaking for the first time in moments and was surprised at how loud his voice sounded. He'd meant it to be gentle but it came out gruff and angry. Shawn needed a mother. Guilt swarmed him but he pressed on, tying the knot more slowly. Shawn got it on his first try, a smile spreading his lips and lighting his eyes. He was a special boy. Always had been.

"But what am I supposed to do with this?" Shawn asked, holding the small knot up.

"That was hard to make, wasn't it?" Shawn nodded. "Come on."

They went back upstairs and into Shawn's room; stopped at the window. Henry cracked it open and slipped one of the newly tied knots in and shut it. "This way, if someone tries to come in, they'll knock it down and you'll know your security had been breached. "

"But why did it have to be a knot?" Shawn asked, his fingers pulling at his own knot. "Why couldn't it just be a little piece of string?"

"It never hurts to make something your own, son." Henry said, crouching to his level. "Arthur didn't have just any sword. He had Excalibur." Henry fought back a smile at Shawn's expression. This battle was won. "And you don't have just any knot. You have a Spencer knot."

"A Spencer knot..."

"Yep. And Spencer knots don't come undone."

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_Years later... Shawn Spencer was coming undone..._

...It suddenly felt like they'd been out here for months, rather than days. Shawn's tattered and bloody clothes a testament to their journey. He was holding Bayu's staff, gripping its knotted length fiercely. He gave Gus one last nod and then rushed down the hill. Gus looked on, recognizing this moment as probably his last. They were going to die. What was the last thing he'd said to Shawn? He couldn't even remember...


	7. Chapter 6

SURPRISE! You can have it now.

Chapter 6

February 8, 2010

Lassiter rushed back to the scene, again checking the body. Dead as a doornail and for the first time he could see the dark blood oozing from underneath is jacket. The gunshot he'd heard... Shawn had...

Shawn.

Lassiter whirled around and called out his name. He checked the tree and the grave. He couldn't explain the panic that was engulfing him over a man that he couldn't care less about. He didn't care what happened to Shawn. It just meant no more bothers at work. No more being annoyed on the scene and no more getting one-upped by a man who had no formal training as a cop. He was a mockery of everything Lassiter strived for.

_You lost it..._

He shuddered, remembering the way Shawn knew. It wasn't a guess. He _knew. _

_It was under the bathmat._

Maybe Shawn had stolen it himself and then... Lassiter stood rigid. Shawn still had his coin. That son of a bitch! He took a few storming steps back to the body when something caught his eye. It reflected even without light and as Lassiter stooped to pick it up he knew immediately what it was. Shawn's necklace.

The stone was thin but heavy and Lassiter felt a sharp jolt of pain as he lifted it up. It felt like he couldn't breathe. He dropped it - more out of shock than anything. A new sense of worry gripped him and after some consideration he bent down and scooped it back up. Lassiter could hear sirens in the distance, no doubt racing up to them, ambulance in tow.

He let his eyes scan the area again, stopping eventually on a shadow. It was nothing really, just a small black shape behind a thin tree trunk. Something inside him clenched and he made his way forward. Lassiter came around the tree slowly, his heart racing. Shawn was hunched down, his whole body seeming to fold inward. His knees were drawn up and pressed firmly against his chest.

"Spencer." Lassiter said. It was probably the first time he'd ever said the name without practically barking it at the younger man. Shawn didn't move. The sirens were getting louder and he glanced over his shoulder, checking the dark shape in the distance that was the killer. Shawn was a killer. Lassiter started at the thought. He wasn't sure what made him think it. Shawn had defended himself.

He himself had killed before. Had Shawn? Lassiter reached out, gently laying a hand on his shoulder. A freezing chill stirred in his veins. The other man was radiating a deep cold and at the touch his head snapped up. His movements were jerky, like someone was up in the tree above them holding strings and commanding Shawn's actions.

There weren't many times in Lassiter's life that he was truly startled by something. Sure, every now and then someone got the best of him by leaping from behind a corner or a car horn might startle him awake, but the pure horror that gripped him the moment he saw Shawn's eyes was incomparable. One eye was dark, his normal green masked by the darkness around them, but the other one...

It was pure white, swirling and even producing a small glow - like a cat skittering into an alley as your headlights hit it. Lassiter was so shocked that he dropped the necklace, its weight slipping quickly out of his hands and falling into the younger man's lap.

"Detective!"

People were rushing into the graveyard, one team heading for the body of the man, the others jogging over to Lassiter and Shawn. Shawn... who's eyes in one instant snapped back to normal. He coughed, sucking in a huge lungful of air only to wheeze it back out. He looked around frantically, one hand reaching down quickly and grabbing the necklace.

A paramedic took Lassiter's shoulder, trying to guide his attention.

"Sir, are you alright? What happened?" He asked, but Lassiter didn't look at him. His eyes stayed locked on the "fake" psychic. Shawn gripped the necklace in white knuckles and struggled to his feet. Another paramedic caught his arm and helped him up.

"Jesus." He swore, pulling away from Shawn like he'd been shocked. He started grabbing instruments from his belt, whispering to the other man.

"Sir. Please."

Lassiter finally looked at the paramedic to his left. Chief Vic was jogging towards them.

"Detective, what the hell happened here?" Her hair was shooting out in about twelve different directions. It was the most unkempt Lassiter had ever seen her. She must've come right from her bed.

"Chief." He began, trying to work his thoughts into something that resembled coherence

"Is he okay?" She asked, gesturing with her eyes behind him. Lassiter turned. The paramedic was lowering Shawn to the ground.

"I need you over here!" He called to the other paramedic who was already rushing over. Lassiter couldn't hear everything they were saying. They talked fast, moving quickly. Something was wrong.

"Hypothermia."

"How could..."

"Temperature?"

"...severe.."

Lassiter stepped forward, he needed to do something.

"Carlton!" The chief yanked him back. She'd been trying to get his attention - he could tell by the way she used his first name. She looked stricken. "There's... You..." She took his arm, pulling him away from the scene. "Let them do their job." She said, her voice dethatched. Lassiter needed to do the same. Drop the worry. Worry? When had this happened?

"He caught us by surprise." He said finally, ignoring the men bringing in a gurney. Instead he made his way over to the body.

"How could he surprise you? You were on a stakeout to catch him!" She followed him.

"We..." Lassiter fumbled. He didn't know what to say - that Shawn lied in order to prove some illusive point? To show Lassiter something that he never got around to even explaining. Again his thoughts went to the coin and guilt flooded him. He was still worrying over that damn coin.

"You shot him?" She asked, men were taking pictures. Chaos was all around him.

"I...what?" He put his face in his hands, letting out a growl of frustration. He needed things to just stop! Stop moving and stop shouting. He was so confused. And... he was cold. His fingers were almost numb.

"Carlton..." She said, concerned. He wanted to answer her but before he could someone was pulling his head up and shining a light into his eyes.

"Jesus Christ!" He said, pushing the man away. The world swirled and although he could hear perfectly, his vision dimmed. He dropped to his knees, barely registering the pain. He could hear people talking but everything else was a blur. His eyes were open, he was sure, but he couldn't see. Static danced in his vision and made his head throb.

"Carlton." The world slowly came into focus. The chief was crouched in front of him. When had he fallen? Someone was pressing something damp to his head and another person was holding a small bottle of water.

"What..." He groaned, feeling nauseous.

"You fainted." Oh God. He hated hearing that. Why couldn't people say 'passed out?' Was it that difficult. 'Fainted' just sounded so... undignified. He couldn't get the image of a woman swooning over a celebrity out of his mind; tossing her hand up dramatically and pressing it to her forehead as she collapses.

A paramedic pulled his hand up, nicking a small piece of skin off his finger. He pulled it away, bringing it to his mouth and glaring at the man.

"We need to get you to the hospital." Vic said, pushing off her knees and standing. There was still a lot going on around them, but suddenly it didn't seem so overwhelming. Startled, Lassiter twisted toward where Shawn had been and saw the area empty. "They've taken him to the hospital. Concentrate on yourself, detective."

"No." He said, trying to pull himself up. A few arms helped him.

"Take it easy, sir." One said, and Lassiter could detect fear in his voice. Ha. He still had it. Even as wobbly as he was, he could still induce fear in someone.

"No?" Vic asked, resting her hands on her hips.

"I mean, I can't. Not now." He was rambling but he knew he had to stay away from the hospital. Stay away from Shawn. He'd done this, Lassiter was sure. "Let me tell you what happened."

Lassiter went over the night, leaving out the coin part and the Shawn lying part. He said they'd started talking and got distracted. He even said that Shawn had a vision and thought that it meant the killer wasn't coming. He wasn't sure what the other man would say when they took his statement but he panicked and once one lie came out a few others followed suit. He tried to keep as many things true as possible. Falling from the tree and Shawn thinking he was dead. Lassiter looked down as he thought about Shawn's pure relief... but then shivered as he remembered his eye.

This was the longest day of his life.

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February 2, 2010

Gus waded into the water slowly. It felt amazing against his burned and red hot skin. He cast another wary glance around. He was still wearing boxers but he just couldn't feel at ease bathing out in the open. He was silently glad that Bayu and Shawn had gone off alone for the day. He needed to collect his thoughts. Could it really be possible that ghosts and psychics were real? If they were real, then what else was? The tooth fairy?

A twig snapped and Gus' attention was wrenched to the wilderness around him. He was standing half naked in a scene from all of those cliché 'lost on an island' movies; water trickled and sparkled around him, trees bowed and waved in the breeze, and the birds and bugs chirped calming songs. It would make a beautiful painting and Gus almost laughed. He was so used to life that instead of enjoying the scene around him, he could only think about what great art it would make.

When he was done washing, he dumped his bag, taking stock of his supplies. All of the things he'd thought necessary to bring. Socks, a flare gun, foot cream, sun screen, various protein bars and dried food. Needless to say, it was a mess. He organized everything, taking a second to breathe in the atmosphere. If Shawn was telling the truth, then they'd be leaving tomorrow. Bayu was there and he hadn't protested, but still Gus wasn't about to get his hopes too high. He lifted a small rock, rubbing it with his thumb, wincing at the scratchy noise his calluses made over it. He squeezed it, feeling something well inside him and with a sigh, he stuffed it into his bag - as if he'd forget the whole experience without it.

He made his way back to the beach, following the cuts he made in the trees with a small knife Bayu had given him. He knew he was getting close when he could smell fire. He heard a few shouts and a bad feeling struck him. Something was wrong. He jogged passed the last few trees and came out onto the sand only to stumble backwards. It was a war zone.

Bayu's men were being attacked. Gus could recognize the new faces and saw they were all painted red with what he hoped was clay and not blood. Why would they be attacked? Gus hadn't even known there were other people out here.

One of the painted men turned, spotting him and lifted a knife. At first Gus didn't get it. How was the man going to kill him with that? They were 50 feet away from each other but then with a flicker of movement Gus realized - too late - that he threw the blade. There was a "thunk" from beside him and he managed to pry his eyes open to see the knife bobbing frighteningly imbedded in the tree to his right.

Fear sprung him into action. He reached up, intending to yank the knife out but after a few seconds of struggling he chose the man's way out. Fleeing. Gus tore through the forest so fast that the trees whipping by were making him dizzy. He wasn't sure if he was being followed but he wasn't about to stop and see. Suddenly the weeds parted ahead of him and Shawn stumbled out. He looked terrible, his face covered in sweat and a startling amount of blood staining his shirt.

"Shawn!" Gus shouted, coming up to him. "They're being attacked!" He panted, coughing as he tried to catch his breath. Shawn gave him a looked that Gus immediately recognized. Guilt. "What did you do!"

Shawn grabbed his arm, dragging him forward again.

"We need to get back to the town." He said, his other hand gripping his side. Gus felt worry creeping up inside of him but stamped it down with anger.

"There's a town? Like with people? And running water!" He pulled his hand free of Shawn but the other man did not falter. He kept running and Gus was forced to follow.

"Yeah Gus. A town with high-rises and a Papa John's." Shawn halted suddenly, spinning around. "Satellite dishes and traffic lights!" Gus slowed, shocked at his friend's anger. "Police..." His voice shook and Gus took the initiative before Shawn broke down completely. He grabbed him this time, urging him on.

Shawn seemed okay with letting it go. They moved ahead, eventually stumbling out into what Gus would sooner call a park than a town. There were a few scattered huts but if Shawn expected the place to be safe, then he was sorely wrong. There were screams and fire all around them and for the first time since arriving, Gus saw women. They were tall and dark, emblazoned with gems and beauty, but they ran in fear, some of them grasping babies in their arms. More of the painted men were there, lighting up houses and fighting the few men that were there. Oh God, they were all at the beach. No one was here to protect the women.

Shawn ran forward, darting passed the fighting and making his way to a small mountain in the center of the settlement. Gus stood in horror. A painted man approached a woman as she stood painfully in front of a hut. She held a spear, but its tip wavered as her hands shook. The man smiled, twirling his knife. He was getting satisfaction out of this. Gus found his legs moving on their own accord, his hands pulling at the zipper on his pack and reaching in.

He leveled the flare gun, aiming his own shaking hands and firing before the man could advance any further. The flare sped out and to Gus' dismay, hit the painted man and fell to the ground. It sputtered, and leapt up, as if it wanted another try. It tangled in the man's tattered shirt and he screamed as it blew fire onto him.

Gus ran forward, grabbing a rock as he ran and as soon as he was in range he smashed it over the other man's face. He fell to the ground, the flare still burning his clothes.

The woman looked on, her dark eyes wide. She still held the spear out. Gus knew trying to talk to her would be useless, so instead he moved on, deep down feeling proud of his actions.. but deeper down feeling sick. That man might be dead. He might've taken a life. He pushed the thoughts away and scrambled up the hill.

Shawn was halfway up, struggling with another painted man. A spear lay a few feet away. Gus went to get it but fell to the ground as something hit his back. The man had thrown Shawn, who'd collided solidly with him. They both scrambled up.

"A saw you shoot that guy with the flare gun." Shawn said, his eyes darting around for something he could use. "Dude, that was so cool." The painted man jumped forward, his fist flying wildly. It caught Gus square on the cheek with a blow that sent him sprawling to the ground.

Shawn used the opportunity to roll to the spear. He hefted it up but instead of stabbing he swung it like a baseball bat. It connected with the man's face and sent splinters of wood flying everywhere. The weapon was obviously not meant to be used that way.

Gus grasped the hand that Shawn extended for him, pulling himself up.

"What's going on, Shawn? Who are these people?" They both struggled upward as the hill grew steeper.

"I don't know." He said, pulling himself up the last part and stopped, his face stoic.

Gus grunted as he finished the climb as well. He stopped next to Shawn, horrified. The top of the hill was a graveyard. Stones littered the ground and one large boulder sat in the center. It baffled him to even imagine how it was placed there. Various beads and flowers decorated the area but it wasn't what the place was that was so shocking. It was a place of remembrance. Graveyards are common. People die; they always have and they always will. Maybe ghosts were real; maybe psychics were real... or maybe he was just having some horrible dream, but as Shawn's eyes turned milky, and the sky grew darker, Gus felt the blood drain from his veins.

Bayu lay, his body bloodied and skin torn, arms sprawled out, fingers limp. There was a shift above him, a trick of the light. No matter how hard he tried to focus, he couldn't force his eyes to see what it was. It was like a bit of brightness in a darkened bedroom. The more you look at it, the less you see. It's only when you look away do you even see that it's there.

Something else caught Gus' attention. He looked to Shawn, seeing the small stone hanging from his shirt, then looked back and frowned at the same stone that hung from the boulder. A spike embedded it into the rock, shoulder height. Bayu was dead. He was dead because his protection was gone.

"We need to leave." Shawn said suddenly, turning to Gus. His eyes were still white. He'd never get used to it.

"But the people..." Gus said, already knowing that there was nothing he could do. He'd be the first to admit that he'd gotten lucky with the flare gun. Hell, Shawn didn't even know how to use a spear right.

Shawn looked anguished, his face crumpling. He was no doubt thinking the same thing. It was a terrible thing, being powerless. Below them, the painted men had gathered everyone into a circle. Women cried for the lost, but the last men stood their ground.

"We need to do something." He said, glancing back to the fallen Shaman. Shawn backed up, turning toward their only friend out here. Bayu's chest still bled, a strange hole was carved out of him. Gus had to turn away as he felt what little he'd eaten coming back up. A hand rested on his shoulder as he got sick, and after he caught his breath, he looked at Shawn.

It suddenly felt like they'd been out here for months, rather than days. Shawn's tattered and bloody clothes a testament to their journey. He was holding Bayu's staff, gripping its knotted length fiercely. He gave Gus one last nod and then rushed down the hill. Gus looked on, recognizing this moment as probably his last. They were going to die. What was the last thing he'd said to Shawn? He couldn't even remember.

He shut his eyes, willing his weak constitution on.

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Shawn stumbled down the hill, his feet seeming to catch on just about everything. He ran past the women and then the men and stopped in the middle of the standoff. He lifted Bayu's staff as the wise man had on the beach and used all of his strength to stab it into the ground with a scream. He spread his arms, hoping for some sort of Armageddon to rain down on them. Nothing happened.

The men with red faces stared. One of them smiled. There was a shuffle of movement and suddenly Gus was next to him, his chest puffed out like somehow the men would be scared off if he appeared just a bit more buff.

"Hey buddy." Shawn whispered, not looking away from the men in front of them. He caught Gus' nod from the corner of his eye.

The first man in the group raised his spear and yelled, spurring the others into action. Shawn shut his eyes but opened them quickly when he... felt something. The trees parted, pouring a massive amount of men from Bayu's tribe into the village. The men from the beach had won. The resulting fight was quick. They outnumbered the others by a great many.

One of Bayu's men looked to Shawn, his eyes taking in the staff.

"Do they know?" Gus asked from his side, eyeing up the man.

"No." He said, taking a step back. "And something tells me I'm not going to be able to explain things very well." He added on, hoping Gus would understand that now was probably a good time to run. The man's face twisted and he raised a terrifying looking knife. Shawn threw his arms up but one of the women ran out and blocked the blow. She started talking quickly, her voice cracking at some points and Shawn recognized her as the woman Gus had saved by hysterically firing the flare gun at her attacker.

"I think we'll be going now!" Shawn shouted, taking a mock bow and jogging away.

"They can't understand you, Shawn." Gus said as he followed, picking their pace up a bit.

"Add them to the list. Not many people can." He said and had to admit that it felt ridiculous to leave at this point. He still wasn't sure the tribe would understand what had happened when they climb to the graveyard and see Bayu's body... his heart missing. Shawn shuddered and felt Gus' eyes on him.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm fine. Just a scratch." He said, dismissing Gus. He wasn't about to let on how much pain he was in. "Bayu showed me the gravesite. The big stone was where they buried the shaman of the enemy tribe." Shawn sighs, again stumbling over how dumb everything he said sounded. Dumb but true.

"There was another shaman?" Gus asked, adjusting his pack and for once letting Shawn drop a topic he didn't want to discuss. It's not like they could check him into a hospital and get him fixed up. They had days ahead of them before they reached the city again... IF they reached the city.

"Apparently." He said with a huff, blowing air from his mouth and knocking his matted bangs from his forehead. He was gross. "They hated each other or something. I dunno. There was a fight and they killed him and as, I guess, punishment, Bayu and his tribe buried him in their own village.

"Doesn't sound like much of a punishment." Gus said. "Wouldn't it have been better to chop him up into little pieces or at least do a few things from Saw?"

"Bayu always wanted the other shaman to join their tribe. He didn't say why. So by burying him there, it was like accepting him as one of their own... even though he didn't want it. I don't know, man. It made more sense when he said it in that weird voice of his." Shawn bowed his head, stricken by the thought that his guide was gone.

"Okay, so, he told you about this and the other tribe just so happened to attack?" Gus asked incredulously. He knew Shawn had something to do with it.

"They thought I was his apprentice." Shawn said, not sure if Gus would understand and by the look the other man gave him, he didn't. "The other tribe didn't have another shaman. Thanks to Bayu they didn't even have one. They attacked because they thought if I got stronger than they wouldn't stand a chance and would eventually stage a takeover."

"But you and I were going to leave." Gus complained, checking nervously behind them for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"You and I knew that, but they didn't. Hell, maybe they would've attacked anyway. The other shaman's spirit was pretty mad." Shawn said, trying to ignore Gus' nervousness.

"The other... shaman's... what!" Gus wrapped his arms around himself, now widening his scanning to include the treetops. Shawn sighed, wincing at the ache of his side.

"His spirit remained up there. Bayu did something where he couldn't leave. He was pretty vague on that part." Shawn said, his face showing an inappropriate amount of disappointment. "That's what did him in. He lost his stone somehow. The spirit got him." He shuddered, fingering his own necklace. He would never take it off again.

"So they killed each other." Gus said, his hand coming up to rub the blossoming bruise on his face. It looked awful. "And we just left them without anyone to defend them."

"Who knows." Shawn said with a shrug. "Maybe without a shaman to fight over, they'll be peaceful."

_They could only hope _

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Shawn shivered as he walked out of the hospital, Gus following behind him - still in his pajamas. It was nearly 8am and he was sure he would die if he stayed awake any longer.

"I need somewhere to stay where my dad won't know to look." Shawn said, dreading the moment his father found out about last night's botched stakeout. He'd given his statement and was ready to get away from it all.

"You can stay at my apartment." Gus offered, staying a safe distance away but close enough that if Shawn were to fall, he'd be able to catch him - or at the very least fall down with him.

"Gus, that's like... the third place he would look." Shawn said, climbing into his friend's car and trying not to let on how tired he really was. On the plus side, they'd treated his side and given him antibiotics. He'd been avoiding that whole thing.

"Well I don't know Shawn! A hotel? I think you should be with someone. The doctor seemed pretty serious when he said you should stay." Gus said, taking a peculiarly long time buckling his seat belt. Was he really waiting to see if Shawn would change his mind. _Ha._

"He just wanted to solve the mystery of why I was so cold and I have news for you... he wouldn't have been able to. I got more than I'd originally bargained for is all." He said, reaching over with a grunt and buckling Gus' seatbelt. The other man just stared at him.

"You show up at my apartment when I'm trying to sleep off the worst jet lag ever AND forget about the worst "vacation" ever and not even a day later you're in the hospital after killing someone, Shawn! Saying you got more than you'd bargained for is an understatement." Gus put the key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot. Shawn couldn't pinpoint where he was taking them yet.

"I've learned my lesson, Gus." He said, trying not to cross his arms in fear of looking angry but unsure what to do with his hands. He felt agitated. He needed to sleep. "Maybe I can weld this thing to my chest." He mused, turning over his stone with a sigh.

"You mean stitch, Shawn. Welding is for metal."

"I've heard it both ways." Shawn replied, trying to pinpoint his new anxiety. "Where're you taking me." It wasn't a question. He knew even before Gus opened his mouth. "Oh no. No. No, you are not!"

"Your dad is going to find out anyway, Shawn. You might as well-"

"No! Gus. Buddy..." Shawn pleaded, giving him the best puppy dog look he could muster. Gus stared on, turning the familiar streets with ease. He couldn't deal with his dad right now. He needed to sleep. Did he mention that? "I feel sick."

This caught Gus' attention.

"You better not throw up in my car, Shawn." He warned, gripping the steering wheel harder.

"Pull over." Shawn moaned. The car swerved over and Shawn leapt out. "See ya, buddy!" He shouted and ran as fast as his tired legs would carry him. He didn't want to trick Gus, but his father would bring him back to the hospital and ask questions and just be a general pain in his ass.

He cut through a few unfamiliar backyards and hopped the fence into Sophia Winters' yard. He walked along the edge of her pool and remembered sitting on the side with his legs submerged and holding her hand for the first time. He remembered blushing and feeling her warmth and hearing her giggle.

Shawn's awareness snapped back just as his legs were giving out. He managed to stumble away from the pool and landed with a thud in the grass. He swore. That vision came out of nowhere and he didn't even know it was happening. He struggled up, his legs protesting. He wasn't sure the last time he'd slept.

He needed somewhere safe. Somewhere no one would think to look. Somewhere warm and inviting... and _clear._

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_  
Sooooooo long. And probably really confusing! I'm serious when I say that it all makes sense in the end. Or... somewhat. I don't know if there are any people actually wanting Shawn and Lassiter to... you know. It won't be very sexual - mostly a deep DEEP bond. Anyhoo, thanks for all of the people who still read on and sorry for any mistakes. I don't have a beta reader or anything. I just read it three thousand times over.

Now seriously only one chapter left... maybe. I'll post it next week. See you then! GO FLYERS.


	8. Chapter 7

Lassiter sat at his desk trying not to snap at Juliet as she tried again to make him eat something. The chief had told him to go home well over an hour ago but he still sat, not sure he was ready to be alone with his thoughts.

"Please Carlton." She said, her eyes sparkling with concern. He sighed, deciding that one person suffering was enough.

"Fine." At least then he'd have an excuse to not be alone.

"Really? No." She said quickly, obviously not wanting to push her luck. "Okay. I'll just... um, what do you wa-"

Lassiter looked at her, eyes scrunching up.

"I'll just... get whatever." She scurried off and he looked down at his hands. A few minutes passed before Lassiter heard a shout from the chief's office.

"You _what_!"

A few people looked up as Guster walked out of the office.

"It's not like I wanted it to happen. He's sneaky." He said, pulling at the collar of his light purple shirt. The AC was down.

"He's a grown man-" The chief began but Gus cut her off.

"Exactly! I can't control him anymore than anyone else."

Lassiter stood up - a bit wobbly - and marched over. "What's going on?"

Everyone looked at him. The chief looked unsure.

"I really think you should get some rest, Carlton. You're no good to us like this." She said, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. The contact was stiff and awkward and Lassiter had to make a conscious effort not to pull away.

"O'Hara is bringing me food." He said, thankful he'd agreed to his partner's pestering. Karen sighed, rubbing her forehead. Everyone needed some sleep. - not just him.

"Shawn seems to have... run off."

Lassiter opened his mouth but Gus again jumped in.

"He tricked me! He said he was going to throw up. That's a company car!"

"I don't care what he said." The chief growled. "We need to find him. He's supposed to still be in the hospital."

"Are you sure he didn't just go home or something? This _is _Spencer we're talking about." Lassiter reasoned, wondering if it would look suspicious if he sat down. He was feeling lightheaded.

"I've been there for the past hour. He hasn't shown up. And Sophia Winters called me asking why Shawn was stumbling through her backyard like a drunk. He's not going to make it far in his condition."

"Who?"Lassiter asked.

"Shawn's girlfriend from like... 8th grade."

"Ah, of course." Lassiter threw up his hands, turning away from the conversation. Why couldn't things ever be easy?

"What the HELL is going on?" Everyone turned as Henry Spencer stormed into the station. There weren't many times that Henry walked in calmly, but this seemed to be the most agitated Lassiter had ever seen the other man.

"Oh, and I called his dad..." Gus said as he took a few steps back.

"My own son is in the hospital and is now missing and no one thinks to call me! Are you all idiots?"

"Mr. Spencer..." The chief stepped in, raising her hands in defense.

"No! There is no excuse for not telling me! He's my son and I know I'm not on any of his emergency papers but you know who I am. I have a right to know."

The chief walked up, murmuring something placatory but Lassiter turned and left. He needed to get away from the toxic atmosphere. He felt like his night with Spencer had opened up so many things and didn't close one of them. Nothing was finished. Sleep wasn't going to fix anything.

He stood on the front steps, glaring into the sunlight for a few minutes before Gus strode passed him. Lassiter reached out, yanking the other man back. He let go after a second, realizing that this was one of those "catch more bees with honey" moments.

"Can I... get you a smoothie." It sounded more ridiculous coming out of his mouth than in his head and he cringed.

"Just because I always hang out with Shawn doesn't mean I _am _him." Gus said huffily, straightening his shirt. "I want frozen yogurt."

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They sat awkwardly on a bench just outside of a frogurt stand. Lassiter had gotten his sunglasses from his car and was infinitely grateful for the shield. Gus sat at the furthest point away, cautiously eating his treat.

"So what do you want to know?" Gus asked.

"What?" Lassiter turned. The other man was giving him a knowing look.

"I assume you want to know something about Shawn, so just ask." He said, putting a spoonful of what Gus said was "Berry Blast."

"Anything?" Lassiter shot back, realizing that playing dumb wasn't going to work here. Gus only stared. "Fine." He conceded. He wouldn't ask the obvious, 'is Shawn really a psychic.' As if the younger man would actually tell the truth. _Or maybe he would. _"Why is he... the way he is?"

Gus chuckled, stirring his spoon around. "That's like asking why we're on this planet. There is no reason. He is who he is and no one is going to change it. He's a person, just like you and just like me; he just chooses to handle situations differently. It's not like he was hit on the head as a child or something." He looked around. "At least not that I'm aware of."

"Where is he?"

"You think I know?" He scoffed. "Who knows. I just don't think he's gone very far. Not yet."

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Shawn peaked around the corner at his father's house. The car was gone. Great. He was probably off screaming at someone for not notifying him. He sighed, resigned to handle the situation this way. The last place people would think to look was the place he specifically said he wasn't going. Right?

He shifted the door open, the familiar creak echoing through ages. Memories were coming up like sickness. He tried to stamp them down, shutting his eyes tightly. He could hear his dad dropping his keys on the table, his mom shutting the fridge late at night... shouting. Hush.

He stumbled blindly down the hall, knocking things over as he went. This was a mistake.

"This whole marriage was a mistake!"

Shawn was overwhelmed with hopelessness. He choked on it. Why did this have to happen to him?

"Why are you doing this to me? I love you..."

He refused to open his eyes. He didn't have to anyway. He knew his place. He could feel his own tiny fingers clenching the railing... his own eyes watching without a trace of understanding.

He thought this whole thing would be like in the movies. He'd see ghosts or be able to talk to them. He'd see the future and predict things to come. He didn't think that his sanity would hang on his own memories. There had to be something he could do to stop them.

"What can I do?"

His father's voice was so broken that Shawn turned and shoved open the basement door. He needed to escape. Again he mourned. He mourned for his parent's failed marriage and for the death of the only person that could help him. _That's not true. _

Shawn opened his eyes, letting them adjust to the basement's lighting. He didn't dare go down the stairs. He knew of memories down there that he didn't wish to stir up. Instead he sank down to sit on the top step. The only person who supposedly could help him hated him. Last night's disaster only further concreted the fact. Although he couldn't help but feel a swell of panic inside him as he remembered what it'd felt like to think Lassie had been killed.

How do I stop the memories?

_Oh God. _

A horrible thought struck Shawn. The purging. The whole ceremony. There was more. Bayu was supposed to help him let go of all of this. Why did he have to go off and die? Shawn groaned. Lassiter _was _the only person who could help. No changing that.

Shawn opened the basement door, sneaking passed his memories - his mother storming away, purse slung over her shoulder, his father bent down, picking up the pieces. These were things he would tackle one at a time. He couldn't give up yet.

He moved through sun beams and pushed passed dust motes, grabbing a pair of sunglasses on his way out.

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"He seemed... different... last night." Lassiter said, feeling painfully embarrassed.

"He is different." Gus said. He'd since thrown out his wrapper and they opted for walking down the boardwalk. The sun was high and it was a hot day.

"His 'psychic' stuff seemed different."

"Oh." Gus slipped passed a woman with a baby in a stroller. He nodded politely, even smiling a bit goofily at the baby. The other man never seemed more normal than he did in that moment. Lassiter himself felt weird. An outcast. "Think of it as an upgrade." Rehearsed. Lassiter could tell when a statement was premeditated. He'd interviewed enough criminals to know.

Gus seemed to notice because he quickly changed his tone.

"It was like he was Gandalf the Grey and now he's Gandalf the White."

Lassiter stared over the bridge of his sunglasses. "Is that a rapper or something?" He asked angrily. Maybe he could rescind that 'normal' thing. "What happened on your trip?" It was a good question. Loaded.

"A lot." Gus said. A long silence followed and just when Lassiter was sure the other man was avoiding the question, he continued. "Not enough." His face aged with the weight of whatever they experienced and for the first time Lassiter let his mind wander away from what he'd thought happened. Hotels and pools; drinking and bar fights.

Gus walked down the steps and into the sand. "I think Shawn is in way over his head here and I don't know what to do. I have to admit... I'm jealous. I've always been his best friend and it's hard to think that there's nothing I can do to help him."

"Jealous of who?" Lassiter asked, confused.

"You..."

Before he could ask what that was supposed to mean, he saw something strange. A man was standing at the edge of the water. He was dark skinned and covered in painted markings. He was also very noticeably half naked. Lassiter turned to Gus, but the other man was staring off into space. He paid no notice of the man near the water.

"Guster.." Lassiter said, turning to the water once more but stopped short when he didn't see the man. Great. Now he was going insane.

"What?" Gus looked to him, and then to the water. "What?" He said more frantically.

"Nothing." Lassiter drew out the word, not taking his eyes off the spot where the man had been. He was waiting - ridiculously - for him to reappear.

"I think everyone was right. You need to get some sleep." Gus said offhandedly. He turned and made his way back to the boardwalk.

"Guster."

He turned. Lassiter let a moment pass. This was the most the two had ever talked before. He could see how without the presence of Shawn, they could've been friends. That is if Lassiter wanted friends. He didn't need them. Friends and women... useless. Well...

"Thanks." He said, cutting off the silence. Gus nodded and left.

That was that. Lassiter couldn't leave though. He was entranced with the spot the man had been in. He couldn't figure it out. Maybe his confused mind was just wanting terribly to arrest him for indecent exposure.

But he knew that wasn't it.

Why would Gus be jealous of _him_?

It was nearing dusk when Gus stopped by the Psych office. He just wanted to make sure the place was still in one piece. He didn't expect to find Shawn there. The other man was too cunning to go somewhere so obvious. He entered slowly, switching on the lights because the sunlight had grown too dim to see by.

Excess maps still littered the desks. It was a jolting reminder of what life had been like _before. _He sighed, setting his bag down and dwelling on the things he and Lassiter had talked about. He didn't mean to say the whole 'jealous' thing. It just slipped out. He didn't really have anyone else to talk to about it.

He felt a sudden pang of anger toward Shawn. He should be here. Friendship was a two way street. Instead, he was probably off somewhere, sleeping or watching TV - completely ignoring the people in his life. They'd talked on the plane about what they'd tell people if they got suspicious. Gus'd phoned his friend Larry who was also an optometrist. He'd ordered colored contacts. It was hard to find something close to Shawn's but they'd managed. He'd went through hell for the other man and here Gus sat, alone... no one to help him deal with-

"Hey buddy."

Gus nearly jumped out of his skin. He knocked over about 30 things in an attempt to whirl around and simultaneously attack. Shawn lifted himself tiredly off the couch near the back. His hair was sticking up and his eyes drooped.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again, Shawn!" Gus said, collapsing onto his desk chair.

"What? By running off or just now?" Shawn rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he got up and made his way to the fridge.

"Both." Gus said angrily crossing his arms.

"I don't think I need to be sorry about the running off thing. And I'm pretty sure that you're just easily startled. That's not my fault either." He pulled a large white cup from the fridge.

"Is it too much to ask for a simple apology? I have to deal with being interrogated by Lassiter and then scared half to death by you and I can't even get-"

"Lassie?"

Gus had to fight back a literal growl. Of course Shawn wakes up when he hears _that _name.

"Yeah. He bought me frogurt." Shawn made a face. "It's healthy, Shawn."

"What did Lassie ask?"

Gus sighed. "All the stuff you'd expect him to ask. Why you were acting weird and where you were."

Shawn frowned, sipping from the straw. "Nothing else?"

"Not really." Gus responded, straightening his things and making sure Shawn hadn't touched the contents of his desk. "He lost his mind at the end though." He said, remembering Lassiter's strange change in demeanor.

"Lost his mind how?" Shawn asked, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

"I dunno. He just stared off into this one spot... like he saw something."

"Or someone." Shawn said, rushing to the door alarmingly fast.

"What? Who? I didn't see anybody and I was right there." Gus stood, agitated.

"There's no time to explain." Shawn was pulling on his shoes as he walked.

"No, Shawn. There is time. You will find time." Gus stepped directly into the other man's path and couldn't help but feel a little like his father. Shawn must've made the same connection because he gave Gus a weary look.

"I thought I saw someone on my way here. A not good someone. I thought maybe I was just tired, but if Lassie saw him too then that is most definitely a bad sign." Shawn was trying to push passed but Gus wasn't allowing it.

"Who did you see? Was it Bayu? How could Lassiter see him too? He's not... like you."

"It's something he said. I'm not one hundred percent sure but, Gus, really, I need to _go_." Shawn pleaded.

"Go where? You don't know where he is." Gus reasoned, not understanding his friend's urgency. Bayu was a good guy. At least that's what he thought. Maybe spirit Bayu and alive Bayu were somehow different.

"You guys had your little chat by that frozen yogurt place you like, right?" Gus didn't like the way Shawn said 'chat.' It sounded like he'd gone behind his back or something.

"Yeah but that was hours ago, Shawn. Lassiter isn't going to still be there."

Shawn shoved passed him and practically flew out the door.

"Shawn!" Gus shouted, watching the other man run down the boardwalk. He didn't answer and Gus was once again left fuming by himself.

_"What happened to your guide-y person?" Shawn asked, scratching an insistent bug bite on his elbow. Bayu sighed in an overly tragic way, leaning his old - yet strong - frame against the rock. It seemed only right to ask the question in the graveyard. Shawn could tell that whoever it was died._

"She was killed by an enemy." There was a flicker in his eyes. Tears? She must've meant a lot to him. "Being connected to someone like us is dangerous."

Shawn stopped his scratching and opted instead to busy himself with some weeds. He didn't like seeing Bayu so emotional. He didn't like seeing anyone_ so emotional. He didn't want his stupid defenses to kick in. The last thing he wanted was to anger the older man... again._

"That's why I was very hopeful that your friend was the one you were connected to. It would've been a lot easier to explain with both of you present." Bayu cleared his throat when Shawn didn't respond. He looked up and leapt back in shock. Behind the shaman was another man. He was similarly dressed but his form was wispy and faded in an out. A ghost.

"Behind you!" Shawn managed to choke out.

"Yes, I know." Bayu said, clicking his staff against the big rock. "This is his grave."

The ghost-man's face fell away like a puff of smoke. Shawn strained to see.

"He killed her." Shawn said, unsure where he was pulling this sudden bit of insight. Bayu merely nodded.

"It is dangerous to be connected to people like us..." He said once more, touching his necklace and Shawn realized with a start that the man himself hadn't killed Bayu's guide, his spirit had.

"Spirit's can hurt the person we're..." He trailed off, watching with a grim fascination as the man again reappeared - this time between Bayu and Shawn.

"Yes."

Shawn resisted the urge to step away from the apparition but deep down he knew he was safe with the stone. A thought occurred to him.

"Can't you just make that person a stone too?" He asked. Bayu shook his head. The gesture itself obscured by the faint figure between them.

"The stone is a heavy burden - as you will soon realize. Perhaps it would stave off the demons, but the cost would be too great." The spirit began pacing. He stood almost a foot taller than Bayu but other than that, the two could've been brothers. They had similar faces... and something else.

"Your guide will help you, but you must protect them. You will never be the same if you lose them..."  
  
qwqwqwqwqwqwqwqwqwqwqwq

Hey! I'm sorry for the wait and the not-so-great chapter. Just a little busy but my writing has started getting faster now that the show is back on. YAY! Lassie tap dancing... priceless_. _I think everyone will enjoy the next chapter. :D __

"I've got you lassie..."


	9. Chapter 8

Shawn dashed down the boardwalk with surprising speed for a man who spent most of his life eating burritos and pizza. He dodged couples and forced his ADD addled mind not to zip like a hummingbird to all of the nighttime attractions. Juggling clowns and pole-side musicians littered his path with spirit lifting acts but Shawn's brain kept up a steady mantra. 'You'll never be the same without him… you'll never be the same without la..'

"Lassie…" Shawn recognized the crisp suit jacket from a mile away. Lassiter was down on the sand, a good bit away from the hustle and bustle of people. His back was rigid and arms outstretched – a stance he commonly took up when he was pointing a gun. Shawn didn't falter at all. He leapt over the railing, and ran toward the dark backdrop of the black ocean.  
Stumbling through the sand he jetted forward with grim determination. In front of Lassiter was a heart-stopping sight.

"You're not real." Shawn heard Lassiter say to the ghostly shaman in front of him. The spirit smirked, then his smile widened – his eyes flicking briefly to Shawn, who was now close enough that he was walking, creeping almost. He lifted his arms, as if the tiniest movement would set forth a terrible chain of events.

"I am very real, as you will soon find out." He said, his smile never wavering. The spirit's voice sounded oddly loud, as if he were speaking within Shawn's own mind. The boardwalk ambiance did not affect him at all. Shawn could see Lassiter's shoulders tensing, gripping the gun harder. He hoped the other man wouldn't fire it.

"My brother is a fool." The shaman called out, obviously speaking to Shawn, but still his eyes remained on Lassiter. Shawn noted that his accent was not nearly as strong as Bayu's. Them being brother's explained the resemblance, but the accent thing was puzzling.

A movement. A slight tip and suddenly the spirit was moving with unnatural speed. Shawn covered the last two steps in a blink and wrapped his arms around Lassiter, laying the necklace against the older man's chest.

"I've got you, Lassie." He said reassuringly into Lassiter's broad shoulder. Shawn wanted to take a minute and enjoy the warmth and strength that poured into him from the small contact but was interrupted rudely by Lassiter's elbow connecting viciously with his face.

Shawn staggered back, a brilliant pain erupting in his face. His hands pressed firmly onto his nose, trying to squelch the rush of warm blood down his face. He managed to stay afoot _and _pry a tearing eye open just in time to see the spirit appear at his side, grin still plastered to his face. He stuck a quick leg out and swung it behind Shawn, causing him to crumple to the ground.

Shawn rolled immediately avoiding a blow with the shaman's staff. He managed to get to his feet, hands out for balance, ignoring the terrible pain in his nose. He caught a glimpse of Lassiter, staring wide eyed, gun still held firmly… but pointed directly at Shawn.

"Lassie, what are you-" An ice-cold hand gripped Shawn's neck. One giant hand of the Shaman wrapped tightly around his airway and shook with a crushing force. Even if he wasn't getting the life strangled out of him, Shawn was certain the freezing chill that wrapped itself around him would be enough to kill. His mind slipped briefly back to Bayu – holding him a foot off the sand, situation not unlike the one he was in now.

"Spencer." The shaman said, smile still twisting his features. "I'm glad you could join us." His other hand came out and with a surprisingly gentle nudge, he wiped at the blood coating Shawn's face. "I was hoping you'd arrive sooner."

"Sorry to disappoint." Shawn choked out, managing to pry a few fingers away from his neck. He didn't take his eyes off of Lassiter, who despite the situation, was still pointing a shaky gun at Shawn. "The stoo-"

"Enough." The spirit barked, renewing his grip on Shawn. "You will meet the same fate as my brother." He spat, and threw Shawn forward into the sand.

Shawn barely had a moment to think before the shaman was advancing on him, one hand held in front of him, fingers spread tightly into a claw. Shawn swallowed, his panicked mind trying to imagine what having your own heart scooped out would feel like.

However, before he could figure it out, something just as stunning happened. Lassiter dropped his gun and threw himself down next to Shawn, as if the whole time he'd been weighing his options. He leaned forward over Shawn, blue eyes bright and wide, his tie dangling down along with something else….

Without a second thought, Shawn swiped his hand up and gripped the necklace that hung loosely down and pulled both the stone and Lassiter against himself. The other man let out a startled yelp that Shawn was certain was the un-manliest sound that ever came out of the detective.

The shaman stopped a few feet away and howled angrily. Shawn didn't give him the time of day. He shifted, trying to lift Lassiter enough off of him so he could get up, but close enough to still grasp the stone. It was an awkward movement but Lassiter surprisingly seemed to understand. He shifted as well, taking the stone carefully from around his neck and placing it in Shawn's palm. Then, with unbelievable care, he entwined their fingers together.

"Where did he go?" Lassiter asked, his voice sounding painfully hoarse. Shawn risked a glance at the shaman, who still stood angrily a few stepped away. He met Shawn's gaze and began to pace like a caged animal.

"I have no clue." Shawn lied. They stood up, awkwardly trying to work around their now useless hands. "We need to get to the Psych office. Gus is there." He added, pulling Lassiter forward.

"My gun." The detective said. He sounded detached and Shawn's heart fluttered with a worry. _The stone is a burden._

"You with me Lassie?" Shawn asked, waving a hand in front of the other man's newly vacant stare. "Stay with me." He pleaded, but Lassiter didn't respond. Shawn took a few steps and stooped down, lifting the gun with a frown. He tucked it quickly into his waistband and adjusted his shirt to cover the weapon. With a few nudges, Shawn was able to gently urge the older man on.

They left the sand and joined the throng of people on the boardwalk. Shawn didn't look back at all. He didn't want to see the shaman still standing there, waiting for a slip up. Waiting to make his move.

The trip back was agonizingly slow. Lassiter's pace started out well enough, but by the end he was starting to really feel it. A strange tiredness descended over his limbs and each movement he made felt like he was battling against a current. Shawn was silent beside him, both his hands cupping Lassiter's left hand. The psychic walked one step ahead, pulling him along.

Shawn's eyes were sharp and attentive, taking in everything around them. Lassiter had to admit that the sounds and smells were suddenly overwhelming. It was as if everything was multiplied by a thousand and then funneled into him. He felt drugged. Not that he would ever do any drugs. Lassiter stopped walking, horrified. Was he on drugs? Is that why this was all happening? Maybe this whole thing was just some hallucination.

"Lassie…" Shawn spoke softly, squeezing Lassiter's hand firmly. "Don't give out on me now. We're almost there." The psychic tugged him forward.

Lassiter watched Shawn as they moved on. His mouth and chin were stained red. It took Lassiter a few minutes to realize he had done that.

"Your face." He said and felt Shawn jump. He hadn't spoken in a while. The other man looked back, smiling for the first time.

"I'll send you the bill." Shawn shot back, turning forward again. Lassiter took note of all of the looks they were getting. The logical part of his brain told him it was because Shawn looked like someone had thrown a bucket of blood on him, but the louder part of his mind was intent on thinking it was because of their clasped hands. No matter how foggy his thoughts got, Lassiter was still all too aware of those damned hands.

They made it to the Psych office a few minutes later, the boardwalk around it empty. Shawn looked through his pockets for the key and with a quiet curse, he knocked on the door. Gus appeared in the entry a second later. His dark eyes took Shawn in, slid to Lassiter, and then finally dropped to their hands. Well one person seemed to care.

"I'm not letting you in until you explain what is going on, Shawn." Gus said angrily, crossing his arms over his lavender shirt.

"Will do, buddy." Shawn responded brightly. "Just as soon as I deposit this." His voice sounded strained and Lassiter realized with horror that he'd been leaning heavily on the younger man. He made an effort to stand up on his own but only managed a shaky step away. Shawn followed him protectively, allowing Lassiter to lean again.

Gus seemed to accept this, because before he knew it they were slowly making their way in. The office lights were dimmed and Lassiter was forever grateful. He just wanted to lie down and sleep.

"What happened to your face" Gus asked, reaching out hesitantly as Shawn lowered Lassiter onto the couch with him.

"You should see the other guy." Shawn glanced at Lassiter, a knowing smile coming to his lips.

"I thought Bayu was a good guy." Gus said, lowering his voice as if people were actually listening.

"It's his brother." Shawn answered grimly. Lassiter struggled to lift himself up from a slouch. This is it. This is what he wanted to hear.

"Brother?" Gus asked, pacing the room. "Since when did he have a brother?"

Shawn absently ran his thumb over Lassiter's hand and the older man shook with a sudden chill.

"His brother was the one who killed him. I just don't understand how he's here. Bayu said he was bound to that mountain or whatever." Shawn didn't seem to notice the affect his ministrations were having. Either that or he was choosing to ignore them.

"Yeah. As punishment." Gus agreed. "So maybe Bayu couldn't hold him there anymore. You know, being dead and all."

"I don't know, Gus." Shawn said, letting out a frustrated growl. "He told me spirits were incapable of traveling far from where they died."

Lassiter wanted to tune them out. He was certain this had to be some elaborate joke. Soon they'd get out the ouji board and light some candles. Juliet was probably in on it. He thought he'd wanted to hear this, but the more he listened, the less he wanted to know. Could he just sleep now?

"Easy, Lassie." Shawn whispered, not turning his head as Gus spoke in front of them.

"Well, he's here and we need to figure out how to get rid of him. And why are you holding hands?" Gus demanded in the end, a strange sourness in his voice.

"He can hurt Lassiter." Shawn said, chewing on his bottom lip.

"Then why didn't Bayu give you two stones. That doesn't make any sense." Gus stopped pacing, turning toward them with sudden anger.

"Can't you see what it's doing to him?" Shawn asked, matching his friend's tone. Lassiter cringed. He was about to say something when Shawn's last sentence caught up with him. The stone was doing this to him? Without thinking, he yanked his hand away from the offending rock.

"Lassie, no!" Shawn stood, trying to press his hand back against him but with a sudden burst of energy, Lassiter managed to stagger up and away from the couch. Shawn took two rushed stepped toward him but Lassiter's hand snapped out, smacking the rock and Shawn's hand as hard as he could. Shawn went two shades paler as the rock flew from his hand and shattered the Psych window. Lassiter was stunned. How had that tiny rock done _that?  
_  
"Fuck."

Lassiter wasn't sure if he'd ever heard Shawn curse but didn't have time to dwell on it when the psychic made a bold move. He ran to the window and leapt out it.

"Shawn!" Gus shouted, making a move to follow but stopped suddenly. His eyes were trained on a spot near one of the desks. "Shawn…." He said, drawing out the name. Lassiter looked at the spot too but saw nothing. Nothing but what should be there. He turned his gaze to the window but his heart skipped a beat when he caught something out of the corner of his eye.

That guy was back, but why couldn't he see him? Lassiter took a steadying breath, glad to not feel like he was battling against his own body anymore. His mind was clear and he was ready to get to the bottom of all of this.

"So what is this? Smoke and mirrors? Some sort of hologram?" Lassiter barked, causing Gus to jump a foot off the ground.

"Really, Lassie?" Shawn called from outside. Only the top of his head was showing. He was on his hands and knees. "A hologram?"

From Lassiter's right, Gus shrugged dismissively as If saying hologram really was stupid. Lassiter fumed. The things he said were far less dumb than the psychotic babble coming out of Spencer.

"Shawn!" Gus practically shrieked, pointing dramatically to the desk again. "He's in here!"

Lassiter squinted and held his breath but still couldn't see anything.

"You sure, buddy?" Shawn said from outside, but something in his voice caught Lassiter's attention. The detective walked stiffly to the window and looked out. Against the far railing of the boardwalk stood the half-naked man. He watched Shawn with amusement. The psychic was scrambling on the ground, hands shifting the glass. Lassiter noted his blood coated fingers and stared at Shawn in horror.

"Spencer!" He stepped out of the window and tried to lift the other man up only to be slammed painfully into the wall of the Psych building. He pushed out a breath but terrifyingly found he couldn't suck one back in. He writhed against the wall, but was stuck there.

Lassiter's body convulsed for air and his vision began to prickle with tiny sparks when Gus leapt out the window with what he could only call a battle cry. Shawn's best friend held an enormous branch, knotted and strong. He turned to Lassiter and swung it.

The detective closed his eyes, waiting for the pain that would no doubt erupt in his chest from the blow, but instead he fell to the ground, sucking in a breath that felt like fire.

"Oh my God, you hit him!" He heard Shawn shout. He wanted to say Gus didn't hit him. He wanted to say he could breathe again but the only thing he managed was a painful bout of coughs.

"I didn't even see him." Gus gasped, disbelief evident in his voice.

Lassiter leaned his head back, shutting his eyes tightly and swallowing through the agony in his throat. When he managed to open his eyes, Shawn was crouching in front of him. The psychic took his hand and firmly pressed his bloody fingers into his palm.

"I think you dropped something, Lassie." He said and again Lassiter was surprised by how gentle he sounded. How… mature. The detective wanted to swat it away – wanted to just go home and have things be normal. All this time he was sure Shawn had someone on the inside. He never actually believed for a second that Shawn really had visions or spoke with ghosts. It was ludicrous.

When was the last time he even slept? Maybe this was some terrible dream. Maybe Shawn had never even gotten back from his "vacation." Was it really just last night that he was on a stakeout?

"We need Bayu." Gus said wearily. "How did I hit him, Shawn? I might be a little down on my knowledge of all of this, but I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to be able to hit him."

"It doesn't make any sense." Shawn agreed, helping Lassiter to his feet. He was already starting to feel the weight of the stone settling into his bones.

"I don't know what kind of drugs you two are on, but I'm certain that _none _of this makes sense." Lassiter's voice rose at the end, his hand squeezing Spencer's so tightly he could hear the psychic gasp. He didn't care. He knew in a short amount of time he couldn't be able to think straight, so he wanted to voice his thoughts now while he still had the chance.

"I hear that." Gus said, nodding at Lassiter which only angered him more. No! They should be disagreeing. They should be explaining all of this crap and sounding like complete idiots while doing so. They shouldn't be in the same boat as him.

"I think we neat to do some googling" Shawn said, making a move to step through the broken window. "And I don't mean the good kind."

"That's your plan?" Lassiter asked incredulously. "You're going to look on the internet. Do you know how many nutjobs with bigfoot stories you're going to find?"

"We're going to stay here?" Gus asked from behind them.

"Gus and I routinely spend our Saturdays reading nut-job accounts of bigfoot sightings. And where else will we go?" Shawn replied easily.

Lassiter flashed briefly to an angry Henry Spencer in the station. Had the man come here? Would he come here now?

"I think someone should please explain this madness to me before I shoot them." Lassiter threatened, trying to push away the fog slowly taking over his mind.

"Oh yeah?" Shawn taunted. "You and what gun?"

Lassiter fumbled for his holster and stopped short, dread filling his heart. Had he left it on the beach? What is a child found it? What if someone killed another person with it.

"Calm down, Carly." Shawn laughed, switching the lights in the office to be completely on. "I've got it right here." He patted his waist. "You really should keep track of these things."

"Where did Bayu's brother go after I hit him?" Gus asked, sounding oddly proud. Shawn only shrugged.

"Beats me, but we've got the stone again so things should be peachy. Now come on Magic Head, get those juices flowing." Shawn tugged Lassiter to the couch and sat down heavily while Gus made his way over to his desk.

"They're not juices, Shawn." He said, offended. "They're waves. Brain waves."

"You sure they're not gears." Shawn asked, eyes drifting up as if in thought. Gus shot him an angry look and began typing furiously.

"Well?" Lassiter said impatiently when the room descended into silence.

"Yes!" Shawn said, holding a finger up. "Your mind's well! Pull that bucket of mind water-"

"No one says that, Shawn." Gus interrupted and Lassiter was thankful for not having his gun because he was sure he would've shot them both.

"Explain to me what the hell is going on!" Lassiter yelled, causing both men to jump. Shawn recovered first.

"We're being hunted by my teacher's evil brother." He said simply.

Lassiter dropped his head down with a sigh. His mind wandered to a long time ago. The first man he'd ever killed. It was a mental patient gone off his meds. He ranted in a crowded parking lot, words coming out in a jumble. Suddenly the world shifted, becoming replaced the scene. He could smell someone barbequing; heard children laughing. Above all else he could hear the agitated words rushing out of the unshaven man as he paced the front area of the parking lot.

It was broad daylight, the sun gleaming.

"I see things!" The man said, raising his voice. He turned to a woman coming out of the shopping center. "I see them. Break your ankle. Fall in love." The man hunched over; the woman quickened her pace to get away.

"SBPD." Lassiter called out, coming forward slowly. The old man looked up at him, his eyes screwing shut after a second. "I need you to calm down, sir."

"Opposites." He man groaned. Lassiter felt his heart beating. His hands were sweaty.

"MURDERER!" The man snapped, spinning on his heels and pulling out a gun. He pointed it at a small boy standing by a car with his mother.

Lassiter gasped, pulling his right hand up to his head. The psych office lights burned his eyes and it took him a minute to realize where he was. Gus was sitting at his desk, fingers dancing over the keyboard; his lips pursed.

"Try not to do that again, Lassie." Shawn moaned from beside him. Lassiter glanced over. He'd forgotten the other man was there. Their hands were still clasped. _Do what again?_

Shawn looked amazingly pale, his forehead coated in a sheen of sweat. What had just happened….

* * *

I'ma go ahead and post this riiiiigggght - NOW. Please don't be mad at me for any of the following reasons. 1. The very lengthy pause between updates... 2. The awful quality of this chapter... 3. How confusing everything is.

I've already got the next chapter finished so no worries on that end and it will seriously make... _some _sense so we're cool there too. Nothing I can do about the writing though.

Seriously though, sorry about that. I wrote these chapters on my little baby-laptop and it had some issues that have now been fixed so I could finally get the files off and email them to my desktop.

Thank you all for your feedback. Really. Thanks.


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